


Many Paths

by flakedice



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: (little bit) of self-harm, BILBO NO, Bilbo is sad, Death, Fíli love, Gore, Graphic Violence, M/M, Madness, PTSD, Psychological Torture, Sacrifice, THIS IS A FIX-IT, THORIN NO, Tears, Thievery, Torture, all dwarves get a line, bilbo is only a little hobbit, but hobbits are BAMFs, concerned husband, elves what elves?, everyone no, fix-it attempts, googly love, hopelessness, lol, lots of madness, major character deaths, thorin is gentle, though I'm going to put you through hell to get there, trust me - Freeform, you can trust me really
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-30
Updated: 2015-07-20
Packaged: 2018-04-02 00:16:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 10
Words: 44,964
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4040140
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flakedice/pseuds/flakedice
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bilbo wakes up in Dale. With the memory of a battle won but lives lost, he finds an army of Men and Elves readying to attack Erebor. Bilbo tries to save his dwarves. </p><p>Again and again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter I

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks to [nickygabriel](http://nickygabriel.livejournal.com/) for organising such a fantastic [big bang](http://hobbitstory.livejournal.com/) and for being so welcoming.
> 
> Thank you to [charlies_dragon](http://charlies-dragon.livejournal.com/), [penumbria_fics](http://penumbria-fics.livejournal.com/) and [croix_souillees](http://croix-souillees.livejournal.com/) for liking the idea of this story enough to sign on as my artists. You are all fantastic, talented people! Your art is just gorgeous! Thank you! :)
> 
> You can find their work: [Here](http://archiveofourown.org/works/3915385). [Here](http://shamingcows.tumblr.com/post/118948290463/many-paths-by-flakedice-bilbo-wakes-up-in-dale). And [here](http://charlies-dragon.livejournal.com/196893.html)! Please leave some feed back for this incredible art!
> 
> And thank you to the Hobbit fandom, which is filled with wonderful people and fabulous ideas. I owe particular thanks to Scatha for the guide to speaking Dark Tongue (found [Here](http://www.thelandofshadow.com/mordorgate/darkdownloads/blackspeech/speech3.htm)), [The Dwarrow Scholar](https://dwarrowscholar.wordpress.com/) and [David Salo](http://midgardsmal.com/) for words and phrases of Khuzdul. All mistakes are of course my own.
> 
> Some ideas are expanded on art from WETA artists in the Hobbit Chronicles. Also naturally The Hobbit movies. I hope you enjoy the story! :)

There was blood on his hands.  
  
Bilbo stared at them. Empty of tears. Empty of feeling. Staring at Thorin's blood on his hands.  
  
It had been warm at first, a seeping river of life. But then it had gotten cold, an icy wetness that burned more than his tears.  
  
It had dried and now it felt like nothing. But Bilbo could see it on his hands, his fingers. Dull scarlet against pale pinched skin-  
  
Bilbo's eyes sprang open. A rough wooden roof confronted him, large cobwebs hanging in disturbingly thick white threads.  
  
Not stone.  
  
Bilbo stared. Blinked his eyes and stared harder.  
  
He knew this roof. It was the room in Dale he had slept in-  
  
Bilbo sat up, staring as he caught sight of the blanket on his lap. It was a worn cloak - not enough of a blanket for the tall folk but more than adequate for a Hobbit-  
  
He _was_ in Dale. He recognized the room. And the sounds of Men and Elves readying for battle beyond the walls.  
  
Did - did that mean it had all been a dream? Bilbo covered his mouth with one hand. It had felt real.  
  
He let out a burst of nervous laughter, startlingly loud in the silent room.  
  
A hard thud rang out on his door, rattling the rotting wood in its frame. "Oi! Keep it down in there!"  
  
Alfrid. Bilbo cast a look of dislike at the door. One thing was certain. He had to make his way back to the Mountain and rejoin the Company.  
  


~x~X~x~

  
  
Bilbo waited until the hours before dawn, when the sounds of the Elves and Men's preparations for war had settled into uneasy rest. He edged open the rotting shutters of the room's sole window and pulled himself up onto the ledge. Balancing on the splintering wood, he pulled the shutters closed behind him and hopped down.  
  
He landed in a crouch, waiting for a long moment to see if anyone had noticed his escape. There was silence; no outcry or any other indication that anyone had seen the shutters open.  
  
Bilbo quickly slipped away from the abandoned house, keeping to the shadows. He had learnt to move quietly over the course of the quest and that knowledge served him well now. It didn't take much to keep out of sight; the former inhabitants of Lake-town were more concerned with tending fires and gathering resources to secure shelter for the night. No one was concerned by the odd soft shuffling noise or too-large footprints left in the snow.  
  
The Elves were more alert but on watch for enemies outside the city, not anyone attempting to leave. It took some time but Bilbo managed to find a part of the crumbling wall that was far enough from the patrolling guards.  
  
The fact that he had used the same escape route in his dream was simply coincidence. He had taken note of the small gap in the wall as he made his way into the ruined city. No one had spotted him when he had slipped into Dale, not thinking such a small space was enough of a gap for the enemy to fit through.  
  
It was a bit tight even for Bilbo but he had lost his comfortable Hobbit padding on their journey and was able to wiggle through.  
  
Once he was far enough away from the walls that any noise would be disregarded, Bilbo set out for the Lonely Mountain.  
  
Braziers lit the top of the gate, a beacon in the night. Bilbo didn't have as good a night vision as the dwarves, but Hobbits could see through the night better than Men. It wasn't hard for Bilbo to make his way across the frozen stone and earth, bladed frost crunching beneath his feet.  
  
A bare expanse of ground that had become a battlefield in his dream. Bilbo held back a shiver that had nothing to do with the cold. It wouldn't come to war if he could prevent it.  
  
He reached the bottom of the gate without incident. Bilbo leapt from one block of overturned stone to another, using both hands and feet to prevent slipping into the icy water.  
  
Bilbo had no intention entering water ever again, thank you very much.  
  
Feet in danger of sticking to the icy stone, Bilbo leapt up, grasping the rope hanging down from the wall. Bracing himself against stone, Bilbo pulled himself up the rope, climbing the hastily-blocked gate.  
  
It didn't take long - a few minutes - and he was standing on the wall above the gate, the braziers a welcome warmth in the night. Bilbo reached out to untie the rope but hesitated, the image of Thorin's furious face flashing through his mind. It had just been a dream (if a horribly realistic one) but it was still enough to stop Bilbo's hand.  
  
With an uneasy look at the fall below, Bilbo pulled the rope back up, winding it in a neat coil which he tucked out of sight. The situation was perilous enough.  
  
There was no need to tempt fate.  
  
He had made his move. Taken the Arkenstone out of Thorin's reach and made a bid for peace. The rest would be up to Thorin.  
  
He ignored the images of disaster from his dream. Thorin's angry response shouted from the wall.  
  
His attempt to throw Bilbo over.  
  
Bilbo squared his shoulders, rolling his neck. That wouldn't happen. He wasn't afraid of Thorin. He’d always had an overactive imagination and it had only grown worse now he knew the perils of the world. Sick though he was, Thorin wouldn't hurt him.  
  


~x~X~x~

  
  
For a moment Bilbo thought Thorin would listen to reason, would take the way out Bilbo had provided. Use Bilbo's share of the treasure to buy peace.  
  
He should have known better.  
  
"It's a trick!" Thorin's voice was almost manic. Unhinged.  
  
Horribly familiar.  
  
Bilbo stepped forward, steeling himself. "It's no trick. The stone is real. I gave it to them."  
  
Thorin turned towards him, expression frozen. "You?" It was said almost calmly.  
  
Bilbo took it as a good sign. He held Thorin's gaze, willing him to pull free from the dragon sickness. "I took it as my fourteenth share."  
  
"You would steal from me?" Thorin's voice was quiet. Dangerous.  
  
"Steal from you? No." Bilbo hastened to head Thorin off." His mouth twitched nervously, an aborted smile. "I may be a burglar but I like to think I am an honest one." Bilbo let out a nervous laugh, stretching up on his toes. Trying to ignore the frantic, gibbering voice in his mind. _This has happened before!_  
  
Thorin took a step forward, a look of almost amused disbelief on his face.  
  
It was not humour, though.  
  
"I'm willing to let it stand against my claim." Bilbo added, somewhat desperately.  
  
"Against your claim?" Thorin sounded almost amused. And just as suddenly the amusement vanished.  
  
It had never been humour.  
  
"Your claim." Thorin's words were filled with contempt. He stepped forward, face twisting. "You have no claim over me, you miserable rat!" He threw aside his bow, the weapon clattering loudly on cold stone, and stalked forward.  
  
It wasn't meant to happen like this. Bilbo took a step back and then forced himself to step forward again, refusing to retreat. This was _Thorin_ , not a threat. "I was going to give it to you. Many times I wanted to, but..."  
  
Smaug's voice slithered through his mind. _I am almost tempted to let you take it, if only to see Oakenshield suffer, watch it destroy him, watch it corrupt his heart and drive him mad.”_  
  
"But what, thief?" It was gritted out, Thorin's deep voice as hard and unyielding as the stone beneath their feet. But Thorin was still listening to him. Surely that was a sign he could still hear reason.  
  
Bilbo held his gaze, determined to get through to him, once and for all. "You are changed, Thorin." His voice grew in strength as he finally gave voice to the words he had been thinking for days. "The dwarf I met in Bag End would never have gone back on his word."  
  
Thorin's gaze flickered.  
  
Encouraged, Bilbo seized the moment and pressed on, gaze flicking towards the rest of the Company. Suddenly filled with the _wrongness_ that had overtaken Thorin since setting foot inside the mountain. The dwarf he knew- "Would never have doubted the loyalty of his kin!"  
  
Thorin drew in a breath, eyes glinting with unshed tears.  
  
Bilbo held his breath.  
  
"Do not speak to me of loyalty."  
  
Bilbo's heart sank. He had failed.  
  
But Thorin hadn't acted against him like he had in Bilbo's dream. Maybe-  
  
"Throw him from the rampart!"  
  
Bilbo's head shot up, body freezing in icy shock. No. No, no, no-  
  
The Company stood stunned. Fili turned his head away, as if refusing to even hear his uncle’s words.  
  
Thorin turned, shoulders tensing in anger as he caught sight of Fili. He stalked towards him, grabbing Fili's shoulders and pulling him forwards. "Did you not hear me?!" His voice was an enraged lash.  
  
But Fili pulled free, jerking his arm away in rejection.  
  
Bilbo felt hope leap in his chest. The Company would not obey Thorin. Perhaps together they could convince him-  
  
Thorin span, eyes fixed on Bilbo with furious intent. "I will do it myself. Curse you!" Furious tears in his eyes, Thorin lunged forward, gripping Bilbo's shoulders in an enraged grasp. He pulled Bilbo forward, dragging him toward the wall.  
  
Bilbo struggled, leaning back, legs straining as he tried to pull free. Thorin wouldn't-  
  
But he was.  
  
"No!" It was Kili.  
  
They were spinning, the world twisting and violent. A grasp on his coat from behind pulled them to a halt.  
  
He was being tugged back and forth. Thorin dragging him to the wall, Fili trying to pull him back. Kili trying to pull Thorin away.  
  
But Thorin was a powerful dwarf. Enraged, he had no equal.  
  
"Curse the wizard who forced you upon us!" Thorin wrenched them free from Fili and Kili's grasp.  
  
Bilbo was jerked forward. Slung up against the wall of the gate, Thorin holding him down and starting to push him over the edge-  
  
Thorin was going to kill him.  
  
"If you don't like my burglar." The words echoed, pulsating with a power that echoed against the mountain. Bilbo could feel it in the stones under his back.  
  
Thorin froze, head lifting, Bilbo still pinned beneath his hands.  
  
"Then please don't damage him." Gandalf continued. "Return him to me."  
  
Bilbo panted, looking up at Thorin's face, hands held defensively in front of his chest. This _had_ happened before. His dream. It was the same. Almost _exactly_ the same.  
  
Gandalf was talking but Bilbo didn't hear his words. He was staring at Thorin.  
  
Thorin who was going to die.  
  
Thorin blinked, grip suddenly loosening.  
  
Bilbo seized his chance and rolled off the wall into Fili's desperate hands, feeling stunned.  
  
Bofur rushed forward, guiding him out of the way as Thorin shouted down at Gandalf.  
  
"Never again shall I have dealings with wizards!"  
  
The anger in his voice made Bilbo shudder.  
  
"Go." Bofur pushed him forward, towards the rope tied to the gate.  
  
Thorin's voice turned vicious. "Or shire rats!"  
  
With shaking hands, Bilbo flung the rope over the wall and hastily followed it over the side. His grip was shaky but he held tight, the phrase _you know how this ends, you know how this ends_ pounding with then beat of his heart.  
  
"Are we resolved?” Bard called out, voice tense. “The Arkenstone for what we were promised?"  
  
Bilbo landed on stone, heart beat loud in his ears and shaking, barely able to follow Bard's words. There was still a chance. A possibility that Thorin-  
  
"-your answer." Bard continued, voice strained. "Will you have peace? Or war?"  
  
The silence stretched. And was broken by a loud caw.  
  
A large black bird flew overhead to land on the wall at Thorin's side.  
  
A raven.  
  
_Bearing a message, as you well know._ The mental voice was acerbic, as sharp as the one he had used in the past when attempting to reason with the Company.  
  
On cue there was a loud rumble that could be felt through the earth.  
  
Thorin's voice carried over the silent armies at the gate. "I will have war."  
  
A dwarven army appeared over the hill. Dain's army.  
  
Bilbo stumbled as he made his way away from the gate. It was all the same. How had he ever thought it could be different?  
  
He made his way to Gandalf who shot him a concerned look and steadied him with one large hand before urging him forward.  
  
Bilbo followed, stumbling along under Gandalf's hand. It had happened exactly as it had in his dream.  
  
He looked up at Gandalf stopped, following his gaze to the dwarven lord who rode his war boar confidently down the side of the rocky slope.  
  
"Dain." He could hear the desperation in his voice.  
  
Gandalf shot him a sharp glance. "Yes. Dain Ironfoot. Thorin's cousin."  
  
There would be war. It was undeniable now, Bilbo knew. He could only hope the rest of his dream was false.  
  
But a sinking sense of dread was filling his chest. Even with what he knew, could he change what was to happen?  
  
Bilbo glanced back at the mountain. He would have to.  
  


~x~X~x~

  
  
When the were-worm burst out of the earth, Bilbo's shoulders slumped. Sting came to rest hopelessly on his shoulder as his gesture of shock turned to resigned despair. How could he turn the tide of battle when they were so outnumbered?  
  
Horns sounded. Armies on the move and about to converge.  
  
"Bilbo! To the city!" Gandalf urged him to a run. "This way!"  
  
Bilbo followed, knowing he was no use on the battlefield. He would have to do what he could for Dale.  
  


~x~X~x~

  
  
The sound of a giant horn rang out. Bilbo looked up, knowledge kindling in his heart. "Thorin."  
  
He ran to the rampart, hands braced on the edge. The gate had opened, the Company running out to join the battle. "The dwarves. They're rallying!"  
  
Gandalf appeared next to him. "They're rallying to their king." His voice was full of satisfaction.  
  
Thorin. Only Thorin in his right mind could command such loyalty, such a renewal of strength.  
  
Bilbo could feel it in his own heart. A sudden leap of hope.  
  
The battle could be turned. Thorin could break free of the gold sickness.  
  
With his strength of will, he could survive.  
  
Bilbo gripped the wall, watching as the dwarves surged forward to attack with renewed vigour.  
  
They were outnumbered but with the fierceness of their fighting they were forcing the orcs back. Bilbo could see Thorin meeting Dain in pocket clear of the fighting.  
  
Gandalf leaned over the wall, eyes narrowing as he surveyed the battlefield.  
  
There was movement below. Large rams cutting through the orcs and moving up to the steep hill to Ravenhill. Thorin.  
  
"Gandalf!"  
  
Bilbo turned to see the two elves arrive on horseback. Bilbo recognised them. Prince Legolas, Thranduil's son. And Tauriel, Kili's beau.  
  
"Legolas Greenleaf." Gandalf expression was one of pleased surprise.  
  
"We have come from Gundabad." Legolas was grim, tight lipped. "Bolg is leading another army from the north."  
  
A look of alarm crossed Gandalf's face. He spun around, running back to rampart. "This is what Azog intended. Azog invades with an army to engage us and Bolg sweeps in from the north."  
  
“Where is the north?" Bilbo had to ask to be sure.  
  
Gandalf shot him a look. "Ravenhill."  
  
"Ravenhill." Bilbo echoed in horror. "Thorin is up there." And Fili and Kili. They were all up there.  
  


~x~X~x~

  
  
Thranduil would not risk himself for Thorin. That had never changed.  
  
Bilbo stepped forward, grim resolve straightening his shoulders. "I'll go." He had to go.  
  
Gandalf turned. "Don't be ridiculous. You'll never make it."  
  
Bilbo smiled mirthlessly. "Why not?" He had before after all.  
  
"Because they will see you and kill you." Gandalf said, exasperated, as he drew closer.  
  
"No they won't." Bilbo shook his head, a small smile on his face. "They won't see me."  
  
"It's out of the question." Gandalf shook his head. He drew himself up. "I won't allow it."  
  
"I'm not asking you to allow it, Gandalf." The words he had spoken before fell easily from his lips. He would not be turned aside.  
  
Bilbo left before Gandalf could stop him. He reached for the ring and pulled it on. And then he ran through the city, dodging ghostly swords.  
  


~x~X~x~

  
  
Bilbo stumbled up to the top of the rise. Shadowy shapes stood before him, not as tall as orcs or men. Dwarves.  
  
Bilbo pulled off the ring, the world suddenly jolting into sharp focus.  
  
"Bilbo!" Thorin took a step towards him, face alight with surprise and joy.  
  
But Bilbo didn't have time to dwell on how pleased Thorin looked to see him. "You have to get out of here now. Azog has another army attacking from the north. Ravenhill will be completely surrounded.” He licked his dry lips. “With no way out.”  
  
He scanned the ruins around them. Only Dwalin and Thorin were here, Bilbo suddenly realised with a cold chill. Kili and Fili-  
  
"We are so close." Dwalin was straining toward the tower ahead of them, like a dog on the leash. "That orc scum is in the tower. I say we push on."  
  
"No." Thorin's gaze fell on the tower. "That's what he wants."  
  
If there was any indication to show Thorin was free of the dragon sickness, that proved it. A clear eyed assessment of the situation.  
  
Bilbo dragged in a breath, nearly choking on it in his relief, trying to regain his breath. Leaving Thorin and Dwalin to argue amongst themselves. Trying to push away the sense that this had already happened and anything he did was a foregone conclusion.  
  
"He wants to draw us in," Thorin continued. "This is a trap."  
  
It was. Bilbo heart seized as he recalled his dream. Fili-  
  
"Find Kili and Fili. Call them back." Thorin was already issuing the order.  
  
Dwalin stepped away from the edge, eyes still flicking back to the tower. "Are you sure about this?"  
  
"Do it." Thorin was walking over to Bilbo. "We will live to fight another day."  
  
Another day, Bilbo thought with an edge of hysteria. He had heard those words before.  
  
He had heard this argument before.  
  
A low reverberating sound echoed out over the ice. A drum.  
  
Thorin and Dwalin had both turned towards the source and as they watched lights appeared at the top of the tower.  
  
Not just lights. Azog. The white orc was dragging someone.  
  
Fili.  
  
“No.” Bilbo felt like he was choking, that there was not enough air to breathe.  
  
The white orc stopped at the edge of the overlook and held out his arm, holding Fili over the long fall below.  
  
No. No, this was not happening again. Bilbo shook his head, lips moving silently as he stared at Fili helpless in the white orc's grip.  
  
"Go!" Fili's desperate voice rang out, one last act of sacrifice. "Run!"  
  
Azog stabbed Fili with his blade. And opened his hand.  
  
Bilbo's eyes slammed shut, but the image was already burned into his mind. Fili. Fili was gone.  
  
His eyes opened. He was vaguely aware that Thorin had left and Dwalin was following.  
  
Bilbo stumbled back, drawing Sting. Fili. Fili was dead. He could have prevented this. He could have-  
  
Thorin had already left. And Dwalin, Dwalin was already battling orcs.  
  
Bolg had arrived.  
  
Bilbo ran down the steps to reach Dwalin where he was fighting the orcs.  
  
There was a pile of stones nearby. (The same he had found last time) Bilbo scooped them up and started throwing, knocking down orcs before they could reach Dwalin to overpower him.  
  
The moves were automatic: he had already done this before, after all.  
  
When Bolg ran towards him and caught him with a blow it was almost a relief.  
  


~x~X~x~

  
  
He was lying on something cold and hard. Bilbo cracked his eyes open, his head splitting with the move.  
  
The sky met his gaze. Pale with cloud.  
  
_The eagles are coming._  
  
Bilbo's eyes shot open. Thorin!  
  
Bilbo scrambled to his feet, stumbling as he hurried to the edge of the overlook.  
  
A small figure stood on the ice below, staring out at the battlefield below. Thorin.  
  
For a moment Bilbo thought his dream had been just that. That Thorin would turn around and walk away unharmed.  
  
And then he fell.  
  
Bilbo ran.  
  
Stone and ice were equally as cold under his feet, his surroundings a blur. Exhaustion fled in the face of cold panic.  
  
He slowed only as he reached Thorin's fallen form. He lay in the same spot Bilbo had seen him die.  
  
Bilbo flung himself down at Thorin's side, hands hovering uselessly over his wound.  
  
"Bilbo." Thorin's hand rose to grip weakly at his arm.  
  
"Don't move." Bilbo gingerly peeled back the cloth covering his wound, blanching at the mess of blood and exposed flesh. "Don't move. Lie still." He lightly touched the wound, recoiled at the wet flow of blood and then gently covered the wound again. "Shush."  
  
"I'm glad you're here." Thorin ignored him just as he always did. His eyes fixed on Bilbo's face, alight and direct. "I wish to part from you in friendship."  
  
"No." Bilbo shook his head. "You're not going anywhere." He rested a hand on Thorin's shoulder, holding his gaze. "You're going to live Thorin." He had to live. Bilbo looked back at the wound. Surely it wasn't that bad?  
  
But he hadn't tended wounds before. He didn’t know. He didn’t know what to do.  
  
"I would take back," Thorin gasped, hand tightening on Bilbo's arm, "my words and deeds at the gate." He drew in a breath. "You did what only a true friend would do." He took a breath. "Forgive me."  
  
Bilbo shook his head.  
  
"I was too blind to see it." Pain and weariness stained Thorin's words but he kept his gaze on Bilbo. "I am so sorry that I have led you into such peril." He coughed wetly, turning aside.  
  
"No," Bilbo leaned forward, lightly patting Thorin's shoulder to be sure of his attention. "I am glad to have shared in your perils, Thorin. Each and every one of them."  
  
Thorin turned to face him, eyes widened in surprised warmth.  
  
Bilbo tightened his grip on Thorin's coat. "It is far more than any Baggins deserves." He, who should have kept them safe.  
  
Thorin smiled, the pain falling from his face. "Farewell, Master Burglar."  
  
Bilbo squeezed his eyes shut, pained to hear it again-  
  
A soft smile softened Thorin's face. "Go back to your books. And your armchair. Plant your trees." His half-lidded eyes were fond. "Watch them grow."  
  
Bilbo kept his eyes fixed on Thorin's face, unable to look away. He _couldn't_ turn away with Thorin looking at him like that.  
  
Thorin's gaze turned inward. "If more people valued home above gold," his eyes focused on Bilbo's face, "this world would be a merrier place." His breath caught and he struggled to breathe.  
  
Bilbo's throat tightened. "No. No. No." He found himself repeating the word over and over as if the denial alone could stave off Thorin's death. He jumped at his wet cough. "Th-Thorin, don't you dare-"  
  
But Thorin's gaze had softened, the last breath escaping his lips in a soft sigh.  
  
"Thorin." It was a broken whisper.  
  
Bilbo sank to his side, arm coming around Thorin's head, one hand pressing to his still chest. "Thorin. Thorin hold on. Hold on please. The eagles- the eagles are here. Thorin? The eagles-" His voice broke and tears trailed from his eyes. Bilbo lifted a hand to shift them but it was no use.  
  
The eagles had arrived and Thorin was gone.  
  


~x~X~x~

  
  
Bilbo sat numbly on the icy rock, staring down at his bloody hands. Thorin had died. Again.  
  
Everything had happened just as it had in his dream.  
  
Fili. Kili.  
  
Thorin.  
  
His friends were dead just as he had dreamed they would.  
  
A warm touch teased the edge of his lips and Bilbo reached up to touch his face.  
  
His hand came away pale red. Not just tears but blood. His head throbbed dully but Bilbo was transfixed.  
  
His head wound. If he hadn't lain fallen so long could he have prevented this? If he hadn't taken the Arkenstone?  
  
Bilbo sat amidst stone and snow, the weight of guilt holding him still and silent.  
  


~x~X~x~

  
  
When Bilbo next woke, it was to a familiar cobwebbed roof. 


	2. Chapter II

The sun had long to rise when Bilbo slipped back into the mountain. It was still dark, his path lit by the braziers on the wall, the torches that had been lit and the deep glow of the far off forge lights.  
  
But while most of the Company was sleeping, Bilbo knew where he would find Thorin.  
  
He was near the throne, slowly pacing back and forth, his gaze fixed on the gold that spilled round the platform in a terrible glinting river.  
  
"You should rest." Bilbo said as he made his way to solid ground. "You will need your strength." Thorin had not slept nor eaten for days, Bilbo realised sickly. And his weakness had surely contributed to his death.  
  
Thorin stopped. He slowly turned, gaze softening slightly as he saw Bilbo. "Dwarves are a hardy folk, Master Baggins. It will take more than lack of rest to affect our strength."  
  
Months on the road and a lack of food had done most of the job already, Bilbo feared.  
  
Bilbo gave him a tight smile, knowing defeat. He looked down, flexing his toes against the cold stone. "You need something to eat, though-" Bilbo rocked nervously on his feet, uneasy under Thorin’s stare. Still seeing his lifeless eyes. "There isn't much but Bombur-"   
  
There was a soft noise, heavy fur on stone, and Bilbo looked up to find Thorin had drawn closer.   
  
He gave Bilbo a small amused smile. "When Erebor is secure, we will have a feast. You shall have whatever food you desire."  
  
Bilbo couldn't remember the last time the prospect of eating had been appealing. Thorin's talk of feasts with an army camped beyond the mountain's walls only made him feel nauseous.  
  
He twitched his nose nervously, taking a chance. "I had hoped you would join me for breakfast." If it took him eating to encourage Thorin to do the same, Bilbo would happily choke down some musty cram.  
  
And if he could get Thorin away from the gold for long enough, Bilbo might be able to break him free from the dragon-sickness' grip.  
  
Thorin's eyes were warm, his expression softening. "Another time, Master Baggins." His gaze returned to the gold around them, growing harder, more focused. "The Arkenstone must be found."  
  
"Thorin-"  
  
But Thorin was already prowling out onto the treasure, eyes scanning the tide of gold beneath his feet.   
  


~x~X~x~

  
  
"You would steal from me?" Thorin regarded him with angry betrayal.  
  
Bilbo shook his head. "No, Thorin. I’ve only acted upon the contract we made." He could see Balin's eyes slide shut as if the shut out the coming disaster, feel Bombur's petrified disbelief at his side.   
  
Thorin regarded him incredulously, body held tight in deadly stillness. "That is your defence?"   
  
"I am to 'extricate the Company from whatever difficulties they encounter' and this-" Bilbo gestured forcefully at the gathered army below. "Is most definitely a difficulty, Thorin!"  
  
A difficulty that was going to get them all killed if he couldn't talk sense into Thorin.  
  
"I have found you the Arkenstone, Thorin." Bilbo continued more quietly. "And it will be returned to you when honour your word."  
  
"My word." Thorin repeated quietly. "And what do you know of honour, thief?" It was said with a sneer.  
  
Things had gotten out of control and quickly. Bilbo held Thorin's gaze, repressing the urge to flinch. "I have given my word for yours, Thorin."  
  
Thorin's eyes flickered. And then his expression twisted with anger. " _I_ am king here!" His voice was an ugly growl.  
  
"You are not yourself, Thorin!" The Company hadn't moved and Bilbo took strength from that. "The Thorin I know would never let his pride get in the way of the prosperity of his people."  
  
Thorin stilled, shoulders hunched. He peered at Bilbo, one eye caught beneath straying strands of hair, as icy and chilling as a wolf's. "Do not seek to lecture me on prosperity, you who have never known hardship in your life!" His words cracked out as he advanced. Thorin's eyes remained fixed on Bilbo, glinting with unshed tears and a deep wild rage. "A shire rat who has wormed his way deep into our Company in order to steal our wealth for his own!" His words were a deep growl. "You have shown your true colours at last."  
  
A sense of desperation seized Bilbo, any chance for reason slipping from his fingers. "Thorin-"   
  
Thorin's expression twisted at the use of his name, affront and disgust combined. "Throw him from the ramparts!"   
  


~x~X~x~

  
  
Bilbo watched as four large rams charged through the army of orcs, punching their way through the lines. It was the same as last time, which meant whatever change could be made was up to him.   
  
Bilbo reached for the ring in his pocket. He wasn't going to wait. The climb to Ravenhill would be long enough.  
  


~x~X~x~

  
  
It took longer than Bilbo remembered to get free of the knots of fighters scattered through Dale. Men and orcs clashed at every turn; even trolls were loose within the city. Even invisible as he was, they were hard to avoid. He had heard Gandalf shouting for him at one point but there was no time to stop and explain.  
  
He wasn't sure that Gandalf wouldn't stop him if he did.  
  
After Bilbo had slipped through Dale's broken walls, he had made his way across the battlefield. Most of the orcs and men fought within the city but there were still running battles outside the walls.  
  
It had taken longer that Bilbo thought it would. He had started up the path to Ravenhill at a run.  
  
Now the dark patchwork of stone and earth gave way to the pallid sky. The ground beneath his feet levelled, shadowy figures appearing before him. Bilbo pulled off the ring as he came to an exhausted halt.  
  
The world suddenly came into sharp clarity.  
  
"Where are Fili and Kili?" His voice was sharp with fear. He had come too late. Too late.  
  
Thorin's look of shock at his appearance, sharpened at his words. "Scouting the tower."  
  
"It's a trap." Bilbo staggered forward, clasping Thorin's arm in one desperate hand. "When did they leave?"   
  
Thorin's eyes flashed towards the tower, the expression on his face one of frozen horror.  
  
Dwalin had run to the edge of the jutting stone to look over the frozen river between their position and Ravenhill. Now he turned. "They're inside." His voice was dark.  
  
"We must find them." Thorin pulled free of Bilbo's grasp, drawing his sword. "Azog will-"  
  
There was the blast of a horn. The sound of drums.  
  
Bilbo's eyes shut against the sound, dread and fear an ugly twist in his gut. He forced them open and turned to face Ravenhill.  
  
Where Azog walked out of the shadows, dragging Fili at his side.  
  
"Fili." Thorin's voice was little more than a devastated whisper.  
  
Bilbo's heart clenched.  
  
Azog strolled to the edge of the cliff and lifted Fili until he dangled over the long drop below. The white orc smiled. " _Hon, Torin undag Train-ob. Hon mata._ "   
  
It was happening again.  
  
"Fili!" Bilbo surged forward. Willing Fili to twist free, to escape what was coming-  
  
The look of resignation on Fili's face was gut-wrenching. But he drew in a breath. "Go! Run!"  
  
Azog's blade thrust through his back. With a terrible smile, the white orc opened his hand and let Fili fall.  
  
Dwalin let out a roar.  
  
Thorin turned and started running, a look of terrible purpose on his face.  
  
Bilbo staggered after him, despair making his breath short.   
  
There was no chance of them leaving Ravenhill now. Azog had just killed Fili in front of them and Thorin was not going to leave now. Not when Kili was trapped inside the tower as well.  
  
Azog would die. But Thorin. Thorin might yet live.  
  
Bilbo wouldn't let him die.  
  
Orcs appeared. Dwalin swung his axe into the side of one with an infuriated roar, slashing the arm off another as he pulled it free.  
  
Thorin fought silently, orcs falling to his sword. He kept running towards Ravenhill, whatever orc that stood in his way left bleeding and dying behind him.   
  
Bilbo did his best to keep up, stabbing and slashing at any orc which had escaped Thorin's sword or Dwalin's axes.  
  
He wasn't going to be left behind this time. He would stay with Thorin and they would make their way to the tower.  
  
Kili would be saved where he had failed Fili.  
  
There was a guttural shout. Another white orc had appeared, this time leading a band of orcs.  
  
Dwalin set to work with his axes, shouting insults and wordless ferocious taunts. Bilbo scooped up some rocks and started throwing them, thinning out the tide before they could overwhelm Dwalin.  
  
Thorin was almost out of sight.  
  
Bilbo threw one last stone, about to follow-   
  
Bolg was running towards him.  
  
It was now that he was knocked out. Taken out of the battle long enough for Thorin to be mortally wounded.  
  
Bilbo dodged Bolg's elbow-  
  
Only for the orc to swing his heavy stone mace.  
  
The last thing Bilbo saw was Bolg's mace racing towards his face.  
  


~x~X~x~

  
  
Bilbo jerked awake, trying to avoid the blow. He nearly toppled from his bed, a hasty grab at the bed head catching him short.  
  
He was in a familiar wooden room. His room in Dale.   
  
It had happened again. Exactly the same.  
  
 _Almost_ exactly the same.   
  
There had been a change. A small one but a change nonetheless.   
  
Perhaps there was more Bilbo could change.  
  
The thought filled Bilbo with a sudden hope. What if he could prevent Fili and Kili's deaths? Thorin's?  
  
Bilbo nodded to himself and straightened his shoulders. As long as he was stuck reliving the battle, he would do everything it took to keep his dwarves alive.   
  


~x~X~x~

  
  
Bolg was running towards him.  
  
Bilbo threw the rock he held, as hard as he could.  
  
Bolg lifted his mace to deflect the missile; it clipped the weapon and tore across his scalp.  
  
And while the white orc was distracted, Bilbo slipped on the ring.   
  
The word became distant, muffled and ghostly. But Bilbo had kept his eyes fixed on Bolg and the white orc was impossible to mistake against the figure of Dwalin and the darker orcs.  
  
Bilbo unsheathed Sting and raced forward. Bolg's mace was lowering but Bilbo was quicker. Sting held in both hands, he ran past the white orc, drawing the blade deep across Bolg's stomach.  
  
Sting pulled at his grip, caught in Azog's flesh, but Bilbo wasn't able to stop and the sword tore free.  
  
Dark guttural words filled the air. Bolg turned, trying to lift his mace, only to fall on one knee.  
  
Bilbo darted around behind him, slashing Sting across his back. Only barely jumping aside as one of Bolg's large hands reached back in a desperate grab.  
  
But Bilbo's blow had landed true. The thin slash opened wide at Bolg's movement and he topped to his side with a snarl.  
  
Bilbo ran forward to finish him off.   
  
Bolg would not get the chance to kill Kili. He would not!  
  
Bilbo pulled Sting free, a wet splatter across his face jolting him back into awareness.   
  
Bolg wasn't moving. Dark liquid pooled around him, disturbing slashes of flesh on the snow around him. He was very, very dead.  
  
Bilbo tore off the ring, breathing hard and horrified. He staggered backward, nearly losing his meagre breakfast as Bolg's injury suddenly grew clear in graphic detail.  
  
"Go!" Dwalin shouted, catching sight of him as he kicked an orc off his axe. “Find Thorin!" He spun around, axes a lethal gleam of metal that cut another orc clear in two.  
  
Bilbo staggered away from Bolg, one hand rising to his mouth. It was wet and Bilbo pulled it away. Only to realize in horror that it was covered in blood.  
  
He started running, stumbling over snow and stone. Thorin. He needed to get to Thorin.  
  


~x~X~x~

  
  
Thorin had made the most of his lead while Bilbo was-  
  
Bilbo flinched away from the thought. He averted his gaze from the fallen orcs that littered the hillside, focusing instead on the large dwarven boot prints in the snow.  
  
Bilbo ran across snow and icy stone, praying that he would arrive in time.  
  
What he saw as he reached the frozen river, however, stopped him dead.  
  
Thorin stood on the ice, bloodied sword held tightly in his hand. There were dead orcs on the ice around him but he ignored them. He was looking up-  
  
Up towards an outcrop of rock where Azog stood, one hand clenched tight in Kili's hair, holding him half kneeling before him.  
  
Sting hit the ground with a muffled thud. Bilbo, staring at Kili, barely noticed.  
  
Kili was struggling, desperate curses spilling from his lips as he strained and twisted against Azog's hold.  
  
The white orc held him down easily, pale gaze fixed on Thorin below. " _Hon mata, khozdayil!_ " He twisted his grip in Fili's hair lifting him up.  
  
"Kili!" Thorin's voice was desperate. He was already running forward.  
  
But he was too far away.  
  
Kili thrashed in Azog’s grip, trying to get free. "Uncle!” Azog lifted him higher, blade poised and Kili suddenly twisted-  
  
Azog let out a roar. He thrust out his blade, sinking it through Kili's armour and deep into his chest. He pulled it free with a spray of blood and tossed Kili aside.  
  
Kili fell to the rocks, slipping on snow. He left a vivid smear of red and he wasn't moving.  
  
Thorin let out a wordless cry of rage. He started climbing the icy stone, pulling himself up towards Azog.  
  
Bilbo scooped up Sting with numb fingers, mechanically straightening and starting across the ice. Head ringing as he ran.  
  
Thorin. Thorin was still alive.  
  
Bilbo's feet slipped on ice. He skated for a terrifying moment then regained his balance. Sting held tightly in one hand, the other arm extended for balance, Bilbo ran over the ice, eyes fixed on Thorin.  
  
Thorin had pulled himself up to the ledge where Azog stood. The white orc prowled forward with a mockingly calm stride, calling out another taunt in black speech.  
  
Thorin replied with a vicious upward striking blow.  
  
He'd managed to cross the frozen river. Bilbo skidded over the last expanse, gripping frozen stone and hauling himself up.  
  
A large stone fell from above and Bilbo froze, pressing against the hill as it crashed passed him. The clash between Thorin and Azog rang out above him, terrifyingly fierce. Bilbo climbed faster.  
  
He paused when he reached a large out-thrust boulder.   
  
Kili lay crumpled against it, body twisted. His eyes were open and he was still. Too still for the boisterous young dwarf who had barged into Bag End.  
  
Bilbo reached out to touch him only to snatch his hand back. It was stained with Bolg's blood and filthy.  
  
A roar had his head snapping up. Thorin was pressing Azog, forcing him back towards the ledge.  
  
The white orc simply jumped, landing on a shelf of rock further down the slope.   
  
With an audible snarl, Thorin leapt down to follow him, sword descending in a vicious slash.  
  
Bilbo started climbing again, changing direction to follow them. Moving faster, intent on reaching Thorin before he was too reckless and lost his life.  
  
He couldn't die.  
  
Thorin was fighting like a dwarf possessed, pressing forward regardless of risk and chance of injury.  
  
And he was without armour, Bilbo noticed with an internal curse. What possessed him to charge into battle without even a shirt of mail?  
  
It had cost him already. Bilbo could see the darker stains on Thorin's sleeves, the stain of red where cut cloth parted wide.  
  
And he fought Azog whose armour was almost a part of him, sharp metal pressed into flesh.  
  
Bilbo finally reached level ground roughly level with the area where the two fought. Thorin had lost none of his vigour but Azog had the advantage of size and strength. He was herding Thorin, Bilbo suddenly realized, battering him back towards the edge and the fall below.   
  
After a desperate glance of the area, Bilbo bent and scooped up a handful of jagged rocks weighty enough to throw. It had worked with Bolg - they might distract Azog long enough for Thorin to gain the upper hand.  
  
Bilbo drew in a breath and threw the first stone.  
  
It caught Azog in the side of the head. He staggered at the impact, blade lowering.  
  
Thorin was already in motion. He lunged forward, sword angled to cut deep into Azog’s side. He ended up behind the white orc, halfway through another strike as Azog turned to meet it.  
  
Off-balance and out manoeuvred, Azog staggered backwards. Just far enough that his last step left him standing on the edge of the outcrop on which they stood.  
  
With a terrifying smile, Thorin charged him, using his sword like a battering ram and pushing Azog off the edge.  
  
The white orc tumbled down the rocky slope, large hand uselessly grasping at boulders to slow his fall.  
  
And Thorin followed, leaping from one out thrust rock to another, sword held at the ready.  
  
There would be no end to the fight until one of them was dead.  
  
Bilbo scrambled down hastily in their wake, tucking a couple of stones into his coat.  
  
Azog landed heavily on the ice. He rolled slowly to his feet, staggering upright just as Thorin jumped down, sword held high for a powerful overhead blow.  
  
Azog barely moved aside. He stepped back and Thorin stepped close. Thorin thrust his blade home even as Azog lifted his bladed arm, pulling Thorin close.   
  
For a long moment they stood still, white orc pressed close to dark-haired dwarf. And then Azog tilted, falling lifelessly to the ice.  
  
Bilbo covered his mouth with his hand, mouth twitching into a tremulous smile. Azog was dead. Azog was _dead_.   
  
Bilbo started scrambling down the hillside, leaping over icy boulders with a braced hand, feet finally touching ice.  
  
He ran towards Thorin. Thorin who was _alive_ -  
  
Thorin was still standing over Azog's corpse. For a long moment Thorin simply stood there. And then he fell.  
  
"Thorin!" Bilbo ran. There were jagged stones and treacherous ice between them but Bilbo found himself at Thorin's side without any memory of traversing the distance.  
  
He fell to his knees at Thorin's side. "Thorin."  
  
Thorin stared up at him with weary eyes. "Bilbo." It was barely a breath.  
  
Bilbo took one of Thorin's hands in his. "Hold on Thorin." He touched his hand hesitantly to Thorin's chest, trying to gauge the extent of the wound without causing pain. "Just-"  
  
The chest beneath his hand was still.  
  
Bilbo's eyes shot to Thorin's face. He wasn't moving. He wasn't even looking at Bilbo anymore.  
  
"Thorin." His voice was cracked and too soft. Bilbo cleared his throat. "Thorin. Thorin you have to wake up." His mouth twitched into a forced smile that disappeared a moment later. "Thorin?"  
  
This wasn't meant to happen.  
  
Thorin wasn't meant to-   
  
Bilbo patted Thorin's chest uselessly. He no longer moved, no longer breathed. The eyes that stared up at the eagles were blank and did not see.  
  
Thorin was gone.  
  
Bilbo's lungs heaved as tears ran down his face. His hand was not enough to choke back his sobs. A high noise escaped his throat, the rising cry the whimper of a broken thing too deeply wounded to hide. And with such a terrible noise escaping, Bilbo broke.  
  
A broken cry ripped out of his throat, sobs echoing over the icy waste. He tightened his arm around Thorin's shoulders, tipping forward to bury his face in Thorin's chest. The fur of his coat was a cool smooth slide against Bilbo’s cheek, the cloth rapidly growing cold as the warmth leeched from Thorin's chest.  
  
It soon grew damp as Thorin's blood slowly seeped through and Bilbo's tears fell.  
  
Heavy stuttering footsteps crunching ice under their weight, finally made Bilbo raise his head. He was stiff and chilled through but barely felt it. He was numb, hollowed out.  
  
It was Dwalin who stood in his blurred vision, his usual grim face slack with horror. " _Melhekhul_." His legs gave out, felling him heavily to his knees.  
  
Bilbo sat back. Watching with a curious light-headed feeling as Dwalin bent forward to press his forehead to Thorin's still brow, rough broken words falling from his lips.  
  
Bilbo found himself staggering on the ice, red blood giving way to foul black smears as orc bodies wavered into view.  
  
Dead. All of them dead.  
  
Bilbo kept walking until the murmuring faded into silence.   
  


~x~X~x~

  
  
Bilbo stared up at the cobwebbed roof.   
  
He was cursed.  
  
There was no other explanation for why Bilbo was being forced to relive the worst day of his life.   
  
The worst events, a tired part of Bilbo's mind supplied wearily. They had spanned for more than a day. Much longer.  
  
Bilbo buried his face in his hands. Was this a punishment for his part in the downfall of the Durin line? For taking the Arkenstone and betraying Thorin?   
  


~x~X~x~

  
  
He found Gandalf just outside the Elven encampment, staring towards the mountain pensively, staff clasped loosely in a gnarled grasp.  
  
"How can you tell if someone is under a curse?"  
  
Gandalf's eyebrows rose in surprise. But then he glanced at the mountain, realization dimming the light in his eyes. "I suspect you have seen for yourself, Bilbo." His voice was grave. "There is a curse on that gold and you have seen it at work."  
  
The gold. Bilbo hadn't even thought about it. Could this all be the work of Smaug, taking malicious pleasure from his suffering even after his death?  
  
If he had really died. Bilbo wasn't sure if this was all truly happening or he had been struck down and the entire quest was some sort of waking dream.  
  
"Could-" Bilbo struggled with the thought of it. "Could the gold have affected anyone else?"  
  
Gandalf turned to regard him sharply, his eyes narrowed in shrewd assessment. "That you might have been affected by the gold yourself?"  
  
Bilbo nodded, jaw clenched tight.  
  
Gandalf stared at him intensely for a long nerve-wracking moment. Finally he spoke.  
  
"Any wizard worth the name can sense the dark magic of a curse at work." Gandalf's face relaxed into a smile. "And you, Bilbo Baggins, are under no curse."  
  
Bilbo's shoulders sagged.  
  
"No, when you took the Arkenstone, it was to attempt a negotiation." Gandalf squinted back at the mountain. "Though whether the stubbornness of dwarves will yield to your efforts is yet to be seen."   
  
Not Smaug's curse. Nor any curse if Gandalf was to be believed. But if that was the case, why was this happening?  
  
"Until then I suggest we get what rest we can." Gandalf continued. "I fear we shall need it." He clasped Bilbo's shoulder and made his way to the tents.  
  
Bilbo watched him go with a sense of grim resignation, knowing rest was not waiting for him.   
  


~x~X~x~

  
  
Bilbo crouched by the wall, the fighters battling around him strange figures of smeared colour. Orcs shades of black and grey, the Men a strange blend of pastels.  
  
An orc raised its blade, readying a blow to strike down the man who had tripped before him.  
  
Bilbo clutched the crumbling brick in his hand. Waited one second. Two.  
  
His arm shot upward, propelling the brick in a hard sharp arc. When it fell, it crashed down on the Orc's head, his dark blade falling from his hand.  
  
The fallen man surged up from the ground, sword extended before him. He ran the orc though and then scrambled to his feet, running forward with a cry that was taken up by other men battling close by.  
  
Bilbo seized the opportunity and scrambled over the wall. It was partly crumbled, individual stones jutting out from the wall in small shelves. Bilbo jumped down, leaping from one rough step to another until his feet were on the ground once more.   
  
Bilbo braced himself, Sting held tightly in his hand, eyes fixed on the towering shadow of Ravenhill. He would-  
  
There was a loud whuff. A curiously familiar rush of air.   
  
Bilbo froze, slowly looking up with a sense of dread.  
  
A troll stood not a dozen feet away. Even as Bilbo watched, its nostrils flared as it sniffed, scenting the air. It stepped forward.  
  
Towards Bilbo.  
  
Bilbo barely breathed. The ring might make him invisible, he realized in horror, but it didn't hide him in any other way.  
  
The troll drew in a series of sniffs, its head jutting forward like a hunting hound. Its small eyes narrowed and it took another step forward, hand tightening on the heavy mace that hung from its hand.  
  
Eyes fixed on the advancing troll, Bilbo took a slow step backwards.  
  
The troll let out a roar and surged forward.  
  
Bilbo futilely pressed back against the wall as the troll's club smashed down.   
  


~X~X~X~

  
  
Bilbo gasped awake, tearing free from jumbled images of blood on stone, a massive grey face splattered with scarlet, fear and pain. His hands fluttered above his rib cage, afraid to touch.  
  
He pressed them to his heaving chest. It was reassuringly solid, ribs intact.   
  
Bilbo let out a sobbing gasp of relief, slumping forward. His hands clenched in his blankets as he concentrated on breathing, calming his pounding heart.  
  
He was alive.  
  
And in Dale. Again.  
  
Bilbo stumbled free from the bed, barely registering the cold floor. Not even death was a release. In a few hours he would have to face Thorin again, face his wrath as the dwarf learned of his betrayal.  
  
He would have to do his best to prevent the deaths of Fili and Kili. Of Thorin himself.  
  
Bilbo pressed his back against the wall, breathing deep. He would have to do it _all_ again.  
  
And this time he would have to avoid the troll.  
  


~x~X~x~

  
  
Bilbo threw the brick and ran. He was aware of the orc falling and its intended victim running him through.  
  
And then Bilbo was in the thick of it. He darted through the battling men and orcs, avoiding falling bodies and wide-swung blades.  
  
There was a familiar roar - the troll laying about with its massive mace - but in the midst of battle as he was, Bilbo's scent was disguised.  
  
At least that was what he hoped.  
  
Bilbo ducked below a blade and darted past a snarling orc. An arrow thudded into the ground nearby and Bilbo twisted away, taking cover behind a large orc before running again to avoid a man coming to stab it in the back.  
  
Once he cleared the melee, he chanced a glance behind him. The troll was held at bay, a group of men in the middle of bringing it down with spears and rope.  
  
Bilbo turned towards Ravenhill and started to run. He had been delayed again and there was no telling if he would reach Thorin and the others in time.  
  
Bilbo ran faster.   
  


~x~X~x~

  
  
"Wait!" Bilbo stumbled over the rise, legs like jelly, wrenching the ring of his finger. He staggered, disoriented by the sudden clarity of his surroundings and breathing hard.  
  
"Bilbo!" Kili's face lit with joy.   
  
Fili's expression of surprise had melted into more restrained welcome, a small smile lightening the grim lines of his face.   
  
He had made it in time. Bilbo bent over, hands on knees dragging in deep breaths. He had made it.  
  
He glanced up to see Thorin approaching, a look of shock on his face. "Bilbo."  
  
"There's-" Bilbo sucked in another breath, pulse pounding hard in his throat. "Another army. Bolg from-" he straightened, "-the north."  
  
Thorin glanced around them, eyes suddenly sharp. Fili had a grip on Kili's shoulder and drew him close. Dwalin’s axes were in his hands as he faced outwards, searching for any sign of threat.  
  
Bilbo couldn't help the small smile at the sight. He had made it. They wouldn't be caught in Azog's trap.   
  
From the look on Thorin's face, he had come to the same conclusion. "This is a trap to draw us in." His hand fell on Bilbo's shoulder and Thorin drew him closer to the others. "We’ll retreat back to the mountain.” His hand tightened. “Live to fight another-"  
  
A horn sounded out.   
  
There was a shout, a rough guttural call.  
  
Thorin had frozen, hand still on his shoulder, and Bilbo looked up.  
  
Armed orcs stood among the ruins around them. Flowing out of Ravenhill's towers and stationed on jutting stone to block off retreat.  
  
At their head stood a white orc that Bilbo had gotten too close to before.  
  
"No," Bilbo shook his head. This wasn't how it was meant to turn out. Bolg's army shouldn't have arrived yet. There should have been time-  
  
Thorin pulled him back. "Stay close, Bilbo!" His sword was in hand.   
  
Kili had an arrow nocked. Fili was at his side with both swords drawn.  
  
Dwalin, both axes in hand, let out a challenging roar. "Come and get it, you bastards! _Ikhf’ id-ursu khazâd!_ "  
  
Heart sinking, Bilbo drew Sting.  
  
Bolg shouted out a command. And then the army of orcs attacked.  
  
They descended in a wave that broke apart as they met the small knot of dwarves, connecting with a brutal clash of blades. Dwalin's axes lopped limbs, cutting the taller orcs into lifeless corpses. Kili had discarded his bow for a sword and was fighting at Fili's side, the brothers protecting each other's flanks. Thorin met the orcs with powerful, vicious blows, striking furiously and with all the resolution he had shown during the quest.  
  
Bilbo stayed near Thorin, darting forward to land blows when an opportunity presented itself. He scooped up rocks and heavy stones, taking down advancing orcs and thinning out the attacking force.   
  
They were outnumbered but they held their ground.  
  
For one bright sparking moment, Bilbo thought they might make it. Break free and escape with their lives.  
  
And then Bolg joined the battle.  
  
The white orc waded into the fight with arrogant strength, shouldering aside orcs as he drew closer. Heading for Kili.  
  
Fili saw. With a vicious slash and thrust, he dispatched the orc he was facing and took out another that was battling Kili. Joining his brother in time to meet the new threat.  
  
Kili and Fili had learnt to fight together and it showed as they launched their attack on Bolg. The white orc's advance slowed to a halt.  
  
Bilbo did what he could, joining Dwalin and Thorin taking down orcs. Puncturing the lung of an orc about to land a blow on Kili's flank. Slashing the leg of another facing Thorin, allowing him to lop off its head.  
  
Bolg let out a snarling curse in black speech; Bilbo caught sight of the blood streaking his side, even as Fili pressed forward, blade slipping between the armour ridging the orc's ribs.   
  
Bats flew overhead, a suddenly twisting tide that had Bilbo scooping up another stone and hitting one from the sky.   
  
It was only a moment's distraction. But it was enough for an orc's blade to slip under Fili's guard and grate through his armour to pierce his side.  
  
With an enraged cry, Kili turned on the orc, blade a vicious arc as he cut clear through the orc's arm. He followed it with a furious blow that cleaved the orc's head from its body.   
  
The bats started diving, talons extended even as another wave of orcs joined the fray. Bolg had fallen and Fili was no longer in sight. But Bilbo could hear Kili, yelling threats and fighting with reckless rage.  
  
Bilbo found himself fighting for his life, the orcs having broken past Kili and now pushing him further away from Thorin-  
  
Bilbo desperately tried to fight his way back, ducking and slashing-   
  
Dwalin was roaring curses but there were too many of them.   
  
A blow to his side spun Bilbo around. He barely brought Sting up to deflect the orc's next blow.  
  
He stepped backward, only to trip and fall. There was a sharp pain and then nothing.   
  


~x~X~x~

  
  
Bilbo woke to cold. He dragged himself upright, the memory of a snarling orc standing over him a terrifying jolt.  
  
An orc lay nearby. Dark blood staining the snow.  
  
He was still on Ravenhill. And it was disturbingly quiet.  
  
Stiffly, pain shooting down his side and through his chest, Bilbo levered himself to his feet. For a moment he wavered on his feet but then he caught a glimpse of colour among the dark corpses of the orcs.  
  
Bilbo staggered over, heart in his mouth. Dwarven boots protruded from under a fallen orc, a large hand clutching a familiar sword.  
  
With a sobbing breath that seized his ribs with pain, Bilbo caught the orc's shoulder and heaved him off the fallen dwarf.  
  
Fili's clouded eyes stared up at him, his moustache braids stiff with cold.   
  
Bilbo sank to his knees with a sob, hand reaching for his chest. It was still, blood frozen sharp on one side where he had received his terrible wound.  
  
Bilbo reached out and carefully pulled Fili's arms over his chest, laying them overlapped, swords tucked to his chest. He smoothed Fili's rumpled tunic and shakily rose to his feet.  
  
There were dead orcs all around them, curving away in a deadly trail. But they were not alone.  
  
Bilbo walked forward on leaden feet, picking his way through fallen orcs.   
  
Kili lay fallen over a headless orc. His head flung back at an unnatural angle and his arm half severed from his body.   
  
Bilbo recoiled, stumbling back and unable to look at the wound that cut across his stomach.   
  
He stumbled on, following the dead orcs, hoping against hope that Thorin and Dwalin had survived.  
  
He was half frozen when he found Dwalin. Blood drenched the large dwarf, wounds littering his body. The trails of blood and great gouges in the snow testified how hard it had been for the piles of orcs that lay dead around him to bring Dwalin down.  
  
Bilbo stumbled, nearly falling over the corpse of an orc. He turned away, forcing himself to see beyond all the bodies, the dark blood on the snow and the rent flesh-  
  
Bilbo stopped breathing. He only realised that he had stopped walking when his legs gave out, dropping him to his knees.  
  
Thorin. It was Thorin before him.  
  
Slumped over. His blood-darkened hair fluttering in the cold wind across his still face. The blades thrust through his sides and front holding him up from the ground in a parody of kneeling.  
  
Gone.  
  
Sting fell from Bilbo's useless hand.   
  


~x~X~x~

  
  
Awareness came with shattering memory. Fili. Kili. Dwalin. _Thorin_.  
  
Bilbo squeezed his eyes shut tighter, hands fisting in his blankets. His next breath was a half sob and he brought the back of his hand to his mouth to muffle the wretched sound.  
  
The image of Fili's staring eyes. Body broken and the sword still in his hand.  
  
The sight of Kili crumpled in Gloin's arms as they lifted him from the snow.  
  
Dwalin hardly recognizable.  
  
Of Thorin still. His blue eyes no longer filled with warmth and fondness. Still and sightless.  
  
Bilbo's shoulders shook as he recalled the dark halls of the crypt lit with torchlight. The deep solemn voices of the Company and the drums of the Iron Hills echoing out in mourning.  
  
They had fallen silent when Fili and Kili had been placed within their tombs. When Thorin had been laid to rest, Arkenstone resting on his chest and Orcrist in his dead grasp.  
  
Bilbo deepened his breaths, mouth held tight as he attempted to steady himself. Finally, when the tears had receded, he forced himself to face the morning.  
  
There was much to do, after all.

 

* * *

  
Black Speech:  
 _Hon, Torin undag Train-ob. Hon mata._ -‘Watch, Thorin son of Thrain. Watch him die.‘  
 _Hon mata, khozdayil!_ – ‘Watch him die, dwarf-filth!’  
  
Khuzdul:  
 _Melhekhul_ – ‘My King!’   
_Ikhf’ id-ursu khazâd_ –‘Feel the fire of the dwarves!’  


	3. Chapter III

"Bilbo." Thorin stepped forward, a look of shocked surprise on his face.  
  
Bilbo didn't stop running. He darted past Dwalin and grabbed Thorin's arm, pulling him forward. "It's a trap. We need to leave. Now!"  
  
Kili and Fili exchanged glances. Shocked but galvanised by his words. Their hands went to their weapons, and they hurried back across the rock that separated them.  
  
Dwalin stepped forward to block their path. "What do you mean, laddie?"  
  
Bilbo resisted the urge to throw his hands in the air, tightening his grip on Thorin's arm instead. "Bolg is bringing another army from the north!" He gave Thorin a tug, steering him around Dwalin's stubborn bulk.  
  
Thorin steps were slow but he was moving. He glanced up at Ravenhill's silent tower before glancing back at Bilbo's face.  
  
Whatever he saw there had him nodding. He started moving faster until _he_ was pulling Bilbo along. "We retreat. Quickly!"  
  
With one last glance at the towers, Dwalin let out a frustrated noise. But he made no other protest, falling in behind Fili and Kili, pushing them forward with a hand to their shoulders.  
  
They were nearly running as they retreated back down the stony path. Bilbo matched the dwarves' fast trot with dread filled speed. Bolg hadn't arrived with his army yet.  
  
The question was why.  
  
It became clear once they reached the plateau below.  
  
The frozen river lay before them, a wide expanse of ice.  
  
Bilbo faltered as he stepped on the cold icy sheet, memories of blood and snow. Of familiar dwarven bodies lying still on stone and ice. The eagles flying overhead as he sat at Thorin's side.  
  
Thorin noticed his hesitation, and slowed. "Bilbo?"  
  
Whatever answer Bilbo might have given died in his throat.  
  
"Ambush!" Dwalin reacted first, pulling Fili back, urging Kili to do the same.  
  
Bilbo pulled Sting from its sheath, the small sword emerging with a grim scrape.  
  
Orcs had emerged from the tower, rising from behind boulders. An army of them.  
  
"We fight to break free!" Thorin instructed, his own sword held in his hand. "We will live to fight another day."  
  
Another day. Bilbo only had the time to draw in a shaky breath and then the orcs were running forward, their dark blades held high.  
  
The line of orcs staggered as the dwarves met them with axe and sword. Orcs were flung back as they met Dwalin's axes and Thorin's sword. Others diverted in an attempt to flank them, only to meet Fili and Kili’s blades.  
  
The battle was savagely fought, even as they fell back towards the path, a slow retreat across the ice. Bilbo shuddered with dread as his feet made contact with the frozen surface. Memories of previous fights across the ice had him lunge forward, stabbing with extra force at an orc drawing too close to Fili.  
  
Orcs littered the snow, a growing pile of corpses beyond their defensive circle. They had traversed half-way across the frozen river when a harsh shout sounded out.  
  
Bilbo slashed an orc across its face and whipped his head around.  
  
Azog had arrived. The white orc stood on the rocky outcrop overlooking the ice. Even as Bilbo watched, he made a commanding gesture with his hand. There were more orcs at his back.  
  
Reinforcements in sight, the orcs battling them renewed their efforts. They pressed forward, regardless of risk, intent on breaking through.  
  
Thorin fought them off with renewed ferocity, Dwalin's axes a blur at his side. "Du Bekâr!!" Thorin roared out the words as he hammered an orc into the ice with so much force the surface beneath it cracked.  
  
Fili and Kili let out answering cries, blades finding weak spots and smashing aside orcs into the paths of their comrades.  
  
Bilbo did as much damage as he could, darting forward to help even the odds, aware that Azog was coming.  
  
And come he did.  
  
Another wave of orcs arrived, threatening to swamp them. But even as they were forced to give ground, Bilbo knew worse was to come.  
  
Bilbo ducked an orc's sword swing, sliding between his legs and rising to slice across his spine. The move had separated him somewhat from Fili and Kili, and Bilbo stabbed at the orc which now separated him from the others.  
  
Turned as he was, he had the perfect view of Kili, spinning around to cut down an orc that was trying to slip past him to Thorin and Dwalin. A blow that left him wide open to the other orc approaching his flank.  
  
Kili wouldn't be able to deflect it. And Bilbo was too far away to save him-  
  
In a move that was almost too fast to follow, Fili grasped his brother's arm and swung him out of the way.  
  
The orc's blade slid through a gap in Fili’s armour, and punched right through him, emerging a bloody spike from his throat.  
  
"Fili!" Kili screamed as he saw his brother, blood spraying from his mouth as his knees gave out.  
  
Thorin's head snapped around, his eye widening in horror as he caught sight of his nephew.  
  
Fili's mouth worked, only wet choked noises escaping, and then he was toppling forward onto the ice. His swords landing with sharp metallic sound, his body falling with a dull thud.  
  
The weaponless orc behind him sneered, stepping forward-  
  
Only to meet Kili's furious strike. The dwarven blade slicing up through his throat with such force that the orc's head was half severed.  
  
With a yell of rage, Kili flung himself towards Azog, killing orcs and leaping from one shifting sheet of ice to the next.  
  
"Kili!" It was Thorin, battling against the orcs that separated them.  
  
But Kili ignored him, focused on avenging his brother.  
  
Dwalin, seeing Kili's course, let out a curse even as more orcs took advantage of their broken defence.  
  
With a sense of familiar horror, Bilbo realized none of them would be able to get to Kili in time.  
  
Just as he’d had no chance to reach Fili.  
  
Kili threw himself at Azog, sword colliding with the white's orc's blade. Bilbo saw him disengage and strike fast at Azog's unprotected side and then he had several orcs of his own to worry about.  
  
A snarling orc lunged for him and Bilbo darted sideways. Pain burst across his shoulder as its sword caught him with a heavy blow. But Bilbo trusted the mithril armour, skittering back out of reach.  
  
There was more than one orc. And Bilbo would have to get rid of them all. He could hear Kili's yells and Dwalin roaring in rage. Thorin was calling out in Khuzdul.  
  
The ice below his feet gave Bilbo an idea. The risks were great but Bilbo ignored the small gibbering voice at the back of his mind and ran at the orcs.  
  
The move took them by surprise. Bilbo was virtually unopposed as he dodged the first and then struck at the ice right behind him. He ran between the orcs, striking at the ice below their feet and then retreating, leaving them to the weakened ice.  
  
It cracked. A soft snapping sound that grew louder as the orcs stilled, realizing the danger of their situation.  
  
The ice cracked wider, splitting apart beneath the orcs as they tried to flee. Bilbo skittered back, lighter and able to reach more solid ice.  
  
The orcs were not so lucky. Holes opened up beneath them, chunks of ice breaking free and dumping them into icy water. They struggled and clawed at the ice, heavy armour pulling them under.  
  
It was horrible.  
  
But Bilbo couldn’t regret it. He left the struggling orcs, running back to Thorin.  
  
" _Rani Khozdil!_ "  
  
Bilbo froze, horror filling him at the sight of Azog standing in front of a hole in the ice before the tower. Holding a struggling Kili up by his hair.  
  
Dwalin let out a roar of rage, laying into the orcs that lay between them. They fell, limbs sheared off and flesh torn open.  
  
But Thorin was quicker. He cut an orc across its knees, slitting its throat as it fell into reach. With a yell, he barrelled into another orc, tossing it aside.  
  
His gaze was on Kili twisting in Azog's grip.  
  
With a dreadful smile, Azog knelt and thrust Kili under the icy water.  
  
"Kili!" Thorin disembowelled an orc and thrust it aside.  
  
Azog allowed his arm to flex, his hand still gripped tight in Kili's hair.  
  
Kili clawed his way to the surface, gasping, hair plastered to his face. One hand clawed at Azog's arm while the other flailed in the water.  
  
He was only able to draw in another breath and then he was being thrust into the water again.  
  
"Bastard! _Imrid!_ " Dwalin had half a dozen orcs around him but he wielded his axes as if he were trying to cut down a forest. There were countless orc corpses strewn over the ice, but Dwalin hadn't been able to break free of them.  
  
Bilbo had started running without even realizing it. He skidded over the ice, leaping over fallen corpses. An orc appeared in front of him and Bilbo twisted past it, Sting slicing across its stomach.  
  
Kili's arms thrashed in the water, great sprays jetting up with his struggles. But Azog held him, smiled as he held Kili under the icy water unable to breathe-  
  
Kili was drowning. Kili was drowning in front of them-  
  
"Kili!" Thorin yanked his sword free from the chest of an orc and ran forward. He was at the edge of the hole in the ice now and he put on a burst of speed.  
  
Bilbo's eyes were fixed on Kili. His arms slowing, his struggles getting weaker. Slowing-  
  
Azog drove his arm into the water, pushing Kili deeper. Kili's arms flailed, weakly plucked at Azog's arm. Slowly slipped free.  
  
And then he was still.  
  
Thorin barrelled into Azog with a roar, tackling the white orc onto the ice.  
  
Bilbo reached the edge of the ice and ran, eyes still fixed on Kili. He was floating near the other side, face down in the water.  
  
Azog and Thorin had regained their feet, blades locked.  
  
"Pull him out, lad!" A quick glance revealed Dwalin behind him, sinking an axe into an orc's shoulder, spinning to kick another.  
  
Bilbo didn't wait to see more. He rounded the hole in the ice and fell to his knees, flinging Sting aside and thrusting his hands into the water.  
  
The cold bit into his flesh with a thousand numbing teeth. The shock jolted through his arms to his chest but Bilbo ignored it, leaning forward to grasp at Kili.  
  
His numbing hands grasped wet armour and slicked away. Wet locks curled around his fingers, and in desperation, Bilbo _pulled_.  
  
Dwarves were heavy. Wet and armoured dwarves even more so. But hobbits, despite their soft appearance, were strong. And Bilbo's travels had hardened him, the countless repeated battles even more so. Slowly Bilbo was able to pull Kili's head from the water. And then, bracing against the ice, heave him up onto the edge.  
  
Kili flopped lifelessly to the ice. Pale and lifeless, his brown eyes open and staring, a terrible look on his face.  
  
Bilbo drew in a sobbing breath at the sight. He was too late. Too late.  
  
A deep bellow had him look up in time to see Dwalin collapse to one knee. He swung around, taking out the orc that had felled him with a sweep of an axe. But it left him open to another orc who thrust a dark blade into his side.  
  
Dwalin let out a roar of anger. Grasping the sword in his side, he turned on his attacker with an upward slash that took off the orc's arm.  
  
Bilbo scrambled to his feet, shock making him sway. And then he was staggering towards Dwalin, Sting once more clasped in his hand.  
  
An orc bearing a mace swung the weapon down towards Dwalin's head.  
  
The dwarf barely blocked it, deflecting the weapon aside so it cut deep into the ice. The orc in reach, Dwalin punched it in the throat.  
  
Only to let out a choked gasp as another orc's blade slid between his ribs.  
  
With a snarl, Dwalin grasped the arm still holding the blade. He thrust a small dagger up into the orc's ribs.  
  
Just before another orc cut off his head.  
  
Sting sank deep into an orc's back. Cutting through flesh and deep into vital organs. As Bilbo jerked the sword loose, it grated on bone with a low scraping sound.  
  
A blade impacted with his side but Bilbo simply twisted and ducked, cutting the orc's thigh to the bone. Blood jetted up from the wound and the orc fell back with a shriek like rusted metal.  
  
He deflected another blow barely realizing he had lifted his arm. And then he was twisting, bending down into a crouch and springing up with Sting held in both hands.  
  
Bilbo let the last orc fall from his sword, barely noticing.  
  
He found himself staring at Dwalin.  
  
What was left of Dwalin.  
  
He simply stood there, orc blood dripping from Sting’s tip. An ever growing puddle on the ice.  
  
It was a dark laugh that tore Bilbo from his stupor, turning his head to the source.  
  
Azog stood close to Thorin, one hand grasping the dwarf's sword, the bare blade cutting his flesh. And his blade-  
  
Azog pushed Thorin back, pulling his blade from Thorin's stomach.  
  
Thorin fell. Sword falling from his grasp to land on the ice at his side.  
  
Azog stood over him. His arm rose, blade poised to puncture through Thorin's chest.  
  
The world hazed. Bilbo found himself running forward, Sting held low. Ice numbed his fast moving feet, frozen stone unyielding and sharp. Bilbo scrambled up onto a boulder and launched himself, Sting rising to stab-  
  
He got one good blow. A deep tear across Azog's chest. And then the white orc was turning, his arm coming around like a massive white club.  
  
Azog's blow flung him back, landing hard on the ice and Sting falling from his broken grasp.  
  
The white orc loomed over him, the sword from a fallen orc held in his hand.  
  
A brilliant gleam from the corner of his sight caught his attention. Sting.  
  
Azog was striding over, leaving Thorin bloody on the ice.  
  
"Bilbo." It was a soft cry, growing in urgency, Thorin's ragged voice a thin shout. "Bilbo! Run!"  
  
Azog's mouth pulled up into a terrible smile.  
  
Struggling to pull in a breath, Bilbo reached for the sword. If he could just grasp Sting. Bilbo stretched out his arm-  
  
Only to let out a scream as Azog drove the sword down, through his forearm and into the ice. Pinned.  
  
Sting beyond his reach.  
  
So close. He had been so close. Squinting against the agony shooting up his arm, Bilbo fixed his gaze on Azog looming above him.  
  
Panting against the pain, Bilbo met his pale eyes with a glare. He would kill Azog. If not today, then tomorrow. But he _would_ kill him.  
  
Azog seemed amused by his defiance. " _Krampûrz glob._ " He lifted his blade.  
  
And shot sideways as Thorin crashed into him, bearing the orc to the ice.  
  
"Stay away from him." Thorin grated out the words, his large blood-specked hands tightening around the orc's neck. "You filth!"  
  
Azog huffed out a laugh, a dark joy lighting his eyes. He lurched up, rolling to the side and taking Thorin with him.  
  
They grappled. Thorin weakened by his wounds but determined to down his foe. Azog suddenly realizing the very real threat of his situation.  
  
Bilbo watched, reaching for Sting, pulling against the blade that tore through his flesh. Not again. He couldn't see Thorin die again.  
  
There was a sudden burst of movement. Azog surged to his feet, driving an elbow into Thorin's face.  
  
His grip loosened and Thorin landed heavily onto the ice, staggering backward.  
  
Azog followed him, catching Thorin with a back hand across the face. He caught the dwarf before he could fall backward.  
  
Bilbo lunged, trying to pull himself free.  
  
With a sneer, Azog drove his fist into Thorin's side.  
  
"Thorin!"  
  
Thorin fell. Crumpling to the ice.  
  
Azog seized his bloodied hair and dragged him up with a sneer.  
  
Thorin gasped, blood flecking his lips. One hand lifting toward Azog's as his other arm hung limp, trailing blood at his side.  
  
"Thorin!" Bilbo's fingers tore and shredded as he scrabbled at the blade thrust through his arm. He could feel the blade sheering through flesh, grating bone as he tried to pull free, but he was stuck fast. Pinned and unable to do anything but watch. "Thorin!"  
  
Thorin's eyes fixed on him, widening as he saw Bilbo struggling on the ice. "Bil-" He broke off with a gasp as Azog wrenched his head back, tearing open the wound in his side.  
  
Bilbo watched in horror as blood started dripping, staining Thorin's clothes and sliding off his boots.  
  
Azog glanced at Bilbo and a smile crossed his face. He bent down to speak directly into Thorin's ear. " _Lozudurkh matlat._ "  
  
His blade drew across Thorin's throat.  
  
Thorin's body jerked, his eyes fluttering and face draining a chalky white as blood sprayed out in a vivid arc.  
  
Azog smile grew vicious. He tightened his grip and slashed his blade again.  
  
Thorin's body fell to the ground.  
  
His head hung from Azog's fist. His white fingers twisted through Thorin's bloody hair.  
  
"Thorin!" The scream ripped raw from Bilbo's throat.  
  
Azog turned towards him eyes glittering. Still wearing a smile. He opened his hand, letting Thorin's head fall to the ground.  
  
Like trash, Bilbo thought numbly. He stared at Thorin's bloody hair, a scarlet trailing lash in the snow.  
  
"No!" The snarl tore from between Bilbo's lips, harsh and ugly. Eyes fixed on Azog, he strained towards Sting, just out of reach. Stretching his fingers towards the bright hilt.  
  
Smile still curling his lips, Azog calmly strode towards him, Thorin in pieces behind him. His blade dripping Thorin's blood.  
  
Bilbo lunged forward, clawing at the ground, desperate to clasp Sting and thrust it deep into Azog's throat-  
  
Azog stood over him, impossibly tall. He was grinning as he thrust his blade into Bilbo's heart.  
  


~x~X~x~

  
  
The stone was rough under his hands, cold and unwelcoming. Bilbo tightened his grasp on the rope and clawed his way up, weary in more than body. For a moment he hung on the lip of the wall, but with a wiggle, he shifted and slid forward to safety, falling heavily on his side.  
  
For a long moment he just lay there, panting.  
  
In Erebor. Once more.  
  
Bilbo shakily lifted a hand to his mouth. Gasping jagged breaths as he fought to stave away tears of despair.  
  
He couldn't do it. He couldn't see Thorin die again. Fili. Kili. Dwalin. He couldn't-  
  
"Master Baggins."  
  
Bilbo scrambled to his feet, wiping at his face.  
  
Thorin stood in the shadows. Eyes pale in the poor light.  
  
Bilbo found himself staring, voice gone.  
  
"Why do you stand here in the dark?" A dark edge had entered Thorin's voice, a suspicion that Bilbo had heard before.  
  
Thorin stepped closer, looming out of shadow. The fur on his coat harsh, the sword at his side an implacable line.  
  
"Thorin-" Bilbo paused, eyes darting to the wall.  
  
To the rope that still lay fastened there.  
  
Thorin's eyes followed his gaze. And he stilled.  
  
Terror shot through Bilbo's limbs, rooting him to the spot.  
  
"Did you plan this all along?" Thorin's voice was dangerously level. He turned back to Bilbo, his eyes pale frost. "From the very beginning?"  
  
Bilbo recoiled, stepping back and stumbling over rubble.  
  
Thorin advanced, voice growing louder with every step. "Did you seek to betray me from the very start?" Fury burned in his eyes, his deep voice lashing fury. "To steal from me?!"  
  
"No- Thorin." Bilbo hit the wall, unyielding stone at his back. His arms spread out, fruitlessly searching for escape.  
  
There were voices. (Distant and too far away)  
  
The Company alerted by Thorin's shouts.  
  
Thorin drew his sword, the blade scraping free from its sheath. "Have you had it all this time?" It was a dark whisper.  
  
His voice dried up. There were no excuses, no clear diversion he could voice. He had taken the Arkenstone. Stolen it and given it away.  
  
Gotten them all killed.  
  
Thorin read the answer on his face.  
  
His face twisted in a snarl and Thorin's sword flashed up, biting fast and deep.  
  
Slicing Bilbo open from throat to ear.  
  
Bilbo crumpled to the ground, blood spilling and eyes fluttering shut as the red tide spurted out from under his chin.  
  
Thorin was the last thing he saw. Standing tall, his sword dripping red from his blood. A bright spray painted in a scarlet arc across his face.  
  


~x~X~x~

  
  
Bilbo jolted up with a cry, clutching at his chest.  
  
"I said shut it!" There was a hard thud as a heavy boot kicked the door.  
  
Bilbo thrust a fist in his mouth, biting down hard to smother his screams. A high, barely audible whimper leaked between his fingers.  
  
_Thorin._ Thorin had-  
  
There was another thud and the door rattled. "Don't make me come in there, you little midget!"  
  
Bilbo bit down until blood streamed over his wrist and down his arm.  
  


~x~X~x~

  
  
Bilbo froze on the wall. Suddenly aware that he was being watched.  
  
Thorin slipped out of the shadows with the dark silence the madness had gifted him. His eyes were bright in the dim light, pale and fixed like a hunting warg. "Master Baggins." His voice was a low thrum.  
  
Bilbo flinched, mouth collapsing with terror. "Thorin." He pulled a grimace of a smile together. Deliberately pulling at the end of his coat even as he stepped sideways.  
  
Away from the coil of rope he'd hidden in terror once he had climbed the wall.  
  
Thorin paced out into the open, eyes flicking down to Bilbo's hands. And pausing there.  
  
Bilbo took a step back as Thorin suddenly stepped forward. Stumbling back to the wall, eyes widening in fear as Thorin loomed before him.  
  
Bilbo glanced at the sword hilt held tightly in Thorin's grasp.  
  
"Thorin." He had nowhere to go and tried to desperately deflect Thorin's attention. "Thor-" Only to gasp into silence as Thorin reached out.  
  
His large hand closed around Bilbo's wrist. Lifting his hand so the bloodied cloth wrapped around his knuckles was more visible. Thorin's eyes narrowed, face closing down in sudden violent intent. "How came you by such injury?"  
  
The rope was coiled behind a fallen block of stone. A curve of pale twisted fibres just visible above the jagged black edge.  
  
Bilbo jerked his gaze back to Thorin who was looking up from the wrist held in his grasp.  
  
Thorin's hand was huge. Enclosing Bilbo's wrist entirely, fingers overlapping.  
  
It would be so easy for him to tighten his grasp, crush Bilbo's fragile flesh and bones.  
  
"I- I was-" Bilbo sucked in an unsteady breath, "climbing-" He stumbled over his words "-exploring-" he backtracked, trying to gauge Thorin's expression.  
  
"There was-" his lips trembled. Bilbo firmed his jaw, pretending he was only facing Thorin on of his stubborn moods. "I thought I saw something glinting-" He broke off as Thorin's grip shifted.  
  
A finger gently stroking across the blood-damp strip Bilbo had fastened across his knuckles.  
  
Thorin's eyes softened, losing their wild stare. He smiled, a small curve of lips. "Did I not say you should not work yourself, searching?" He leaned forward until their foreheads nearly touched, Bilbo's knuckles close to his lips. Thorin's long dark tresses fell forward, enclosing them both in a dark fall of silver-threaded night. When he spoke, Bilbo felt Thorin's words rumble through him, his warm breath gusting over bloodied bandages. "I will not have you come to harm, my burglar."  
  
Bilbo's breath caught. He blinked, eyes filling and throat tight.  
  
Thorin smiled. He pressed their foreheads together. Lips brushing Bilbo's knuckles.  
  
And then he was straightening once more. Fingers releasing Bilbo's wrist with a gentle clasp that made a mockery of the phantom grasp that closed viciously tight around Bilbo's throat.  
  
Thorin turned, heading back into the mountain.  
  
"Come inside, Bilbo. Rest." A cold distance crept back into his eyes, a sneer into his voice. "The others will search until they find the Arkenstone."  
  
Bilbo stumbled after him on shaky legs. Vision blurred with tears and biting his lip so hard it bled.  
  


~x~X~x~

  
  
Thorin was still there under the gold sickness. He always managed to throw it off when battle was joined. It might be possible to bring him back before Dain arrived, turning the tide of the battle.  
  
Bilbo ignored the small voice that pointed out none of his words had made a difference so far. That all his attempts had only made Thorin's reaction worse.  
  
Bilbo ignored his doubts. He didn't want another battle on Ravenhill like the last.  
  


~x~X~x~

  
  
_"You carried it all this way?" Thorin is incredulous, that look of almost awe widening his face and softening his face.  
  
Thorin had looked at him in exactly the same on the Carrock. Before clasping Bilbo close.  
  
Forever staking a claim on Bilbo's heart.  
  
"I was going to take it home to the Shire. To plant it in my garden." The Shire was a distant memory now. Far from madness and death. A memory and nothing more.  
  
Thorin smiled down at him. Fond and as if Bilbo is more dear than gold and jewels._  
  
It had been the only time Bilbo had seen Thorin close to regaining himself. Bilbo held the acorn tightly in his hand, shifting nervously. He only hoped that it would have the same result again.  
  
He found Thorin near the throne. He was commonly found there, pacing slowly, surveying the wash of gold through the great hall. Watching the Company as they searched for the Arkenstone.  
  
Thorin now stood at the edge of the platform holding the throne, heavy fur coat hanging from his shoulders and the crown resting abrupt on his brow.  
  
Bilbo made his way across the hoard, carves aching at the effort to cross the shifting piles. When he finally reached the cold stone of the platform, it was a relief.  
  
Thorin took note of his arrival with a slow sideways glance. And then he was staring out at the gold once more. Watching the Company search for the Arkenstone, sifting through golden coins and sorting jewellery and precious stones.  
  
Bilbo watched Thorin. Saw the way he paced restlessly and gazed out upon the treasure. Eyes never still, searching for one white stone.  
  
Bilbo took a step forward, feet scuffing the cold stone. "Thorin." Bilbo let a thread of urgency leak into his voice. "I need to speak to you."  
  
Thorin glanced at him. And then out at the others, still searching. His eyes narrowed.  
  
One large hand came to rest on Bilbo's shoulder and he found himself being steered away, back towards the throne. Out of the Company's hearing.  
  
But not out of sight. Bilbo could see Balin had stopped working, straightening slowly to watch them. Nori had made his way closer, picking up a gem and holding it to the light. Dwalin scooped up handfuls of coins, flinging them aside. But his eyes were on Thorin and Bilbo.  
  
Bilbo shifted, uncomfortable under their gazes. This was not-  
  
He let out a breath, toes flexing on the stone. Then he nodded, hand reaching into his coat.  
  
Thorin watched him, a look of puzzled suspicion narrowing his eyes. A look that melted away as he saw the object Bilbo retrieved.  
  
Bilbo reached out and took Thorin's hand. Turned it palm up and pressed the acorn into Thorin's hand. "I want you to have it."  
  
Thorin stared at him in shock, lips parted. As if the madness had fled entirely.  
  
Bilbo willed it to be so.  
  
He folded Thorin's fingers around the acorn, holding them closed with his own. He gazed into Thorin's eyes with desperate hope. "To plant it here at your home."  
  
Thorin's expression was one Bilbo had never seen before. Struck to the heart and warm, a gaze Bilbo had only seen directed at his nephews.  
  
Bilbo's heart leapt, hope a growing flare. Perhaps it was enough for Thorin to break free from the gold sickness-  
  
There was a sliding clatter. A curse as Gloin's search dislodged a cascade of coins and plate.  
  
Thorin's face shuttered at the loud noise. But as he turned, the acorn was still held tight in his grasp.  
  
Bilbo's hope became a small steady flame.  
  


~x~X~x~

  
  
Bilbo opened his eyes to a patchwork sky. Pale slashes of grey and white, bleached and unnatural.  
  
The ring. He was still wearing it.  
  
He had fallen before he could reach Ravenhill, he realized with horror as he scrambled painfully to his feet.  
  
Thorin-  
  
Bilbo started running, feet slipping on icy rock and snow. Who knew how long he had been lying unconscious on the path? Had Fili and Kili gone to scout the towers? Had Thorin already fought Azog?  
  
Within minutes he had reached the summit. Bilbo pulled off the ring, looking wildly around him. There were no dwarves, only the corpses of orcs and goblins, smears of blood and rough prints in the snow.  
  
Bilbo ran to the edge of the lookout, peering down at the ice below. There were orcs, fallen figures below. And two that were without the dark armour of Azog’s army.  
  
Bilbo turned and ran, skidding over icy stone and churned snow. Uncaring of the danger, focused on reaching the ice below.  
  
Bilbo skidded past the orcs, towards the two fallen fighters. One was Azog. The other-  
  
Thorin lay on the ice, red staining white surface beneath him.  
  
Bilbo fell to his knees at his side, fearing the worst. “Thorin!”  
  
Thorin’s eyes opened, fixing on Bilbo. “Bilbo.” He managed a small smile. Thorin raised his hand and Bilbo seized it in his own, horror filling him at how cold it was.  
  
Too late. He had come too late.  
  
Bilbo’s throat closed, his eyes burning. “Thorin.”  
  
Thorin’s other hand fumbled with his. Cold and clumsy. He pressed something small and round into Bilbo’s hand.  
  
Tears streaked down Bilbo’s cheeks as he saw the acorn. His acorn had been what Thorin had been clutching so tightly as he lay dying on the ice.  
  
“Forgive me.” Thorin fingers brushed over Bilbo’s. “For my blindness. My actions at the gate.”  
  
“It is forgiven.” Bilbo choked out. Eyes fixed on Thorin’s face, unable to look away. “I never blamed you.”  
  
Thorin smiled up at him, face pale and eyes half lidded but filled with warmth. “I never hoped to find more than the mountain.” His hands closed weakly around Bilbo’s, pressing the acorn firmly into his palm. “Loyalty. Honour.” He held Bilbo’s gaze, his smile beyond affection. “A treasure of more worth than gold and riches.”  
  
Bilbo let out a sob, sliding down closer to Thorin’s side regardless of the ice. Pressing one of Thorin’s hands to his chest. Lifting the other to his lips.  
  
Thorin turned his hand in Bilbo’s grasp, weakly cupping his face. “Plant your tree, my burglar. Read your books and sit in your armchair.”  
  
Bilbo pressed Thorin’s hand closer to his face. Tears burning lines against Thorin’s cold fingers. “I would have planted it here.” He covered Thorin’s large fingers with his own as best as he could. “At the mountain with you.”  
  
Thorin let out a breath, his eyes glossed with joy. “Bilbo.”  
  
Bilbo bent forward, pressing their foreheads together, tears streaming down his face.  
  
When he pulled away Thorin chest had stilled.  
  
Bilbo let out a sob, burying his face in Thorin’s chest. Gripping tightly to the acorn in his hand.  
  


~x~X~x~

  
  
Bilbo sat in silence, gaze fixed on the three tombs lit only by the flickering of the torch light.  
  
There was feasting in the halls above, songs and drinking. Bilbo couldn't even bear the thought of it.  
  
There was a scrape at his side, the scuff of metal on stone.  
  
"There you are." Dain Ironfoot spoke cheerfully, the scent of ale on his breath as he sank down on the step next to Bilbo. "The Company's wee burglar."  
  
Bilbo glanced at him, unable to tell if the dwarf was mocking him or not.  
  
"Thorin spoke of you in his message." The dwarf lord continued in his lilting voice. "Said you were quick thinkin' in a tight spot." His eyes were sharp, too sharp for the hours of toasts he must have sat through.  
  
Bilbo gazed at Thorin's tomb, feeling suddenly tired. Hollow. "It didn't help much in the end."  
  
"Aye, Thorin was a stubborn bugger." He took a drink from his sloshing tankard. "As bad as badger and worse tempered!"  
  
Bilbo turned to face him. A dwarven lord whose rough humour could not hide his love for his cousin. Nor the grief in his eyes.  
  
"Could anything have changed his mind?" The words fell from Bilbo's tongue before he could stop them.  
  
Dain leaned back with a sigh, gaze fixed on Thorin's tomb. He was silent for a long time before finally shaking his head. "No one was to know what would happen." He clapped Bilbo's shoulder, nearly pushing him over with the force of it. "You did your best."  
  
The dwarven lord stood and made his way over to Thorin's tomb, laying a hand on his carven knee. "Rest well, cousin." He patted the stone and made his way out of the cavern, slightly unsteady on his feet.  
  
Bilbo kept his eyes fixed on Thorin's tomb, tears blurring his vision. _He_ had known. And he had still failed.  
  
The torches were burning low when Bilbo finally struggled to his feet.  
  
He brushed a hand over Fili's tomb in silent apology, hand shaking as he gave it a little pat. "I-" He cleared his throat. "Thank you for what you did at the gate. You will be a good king." He patted the stone again, eyes wet. "I won't be late next time."  
  
Kili's tomb was next. A small stone rested on its top, a small round stone carved with dwarven runes. "You won’t have to fight so recklessly. I’ll make sure you come back to Tauriel."  
  
Bilbo finally stopped at the side of Thorin's tomb. His mouth opened but no sound came out. Finally he reached into his pocket and pulled the out the acorn. He set it down on Thorin's tomb, fingers brushing cold stone as he left it.  
  
"I will save you." He swallowed and pressed his hand to the stone. "Even if it costs me my life." Bilbo nodded to himself. Straightened his shoulders and turned resolutely away.  
  
Weariness dragged at his body. He had been putting off resting. He didn't relish what awaited him when he woke up.  
  
Bilbo drew up his shoulders, straightening in determination as he started up the torch lit stairs.  
  
He knew what was coming. And he knew what to do.  
  


* * *

  
Black Speech:  
_Rani Khozdil!_ – 'Dwarven king!'  
_Krampûrz glob_ – 'Loyal fool.'  
_Lozudurkh matlat_ – 'Finally, you die.'  
  
Khuzdul:  
_Du Bekâr!_ \- 'To arms!'  
_Imrid!_ – 'Die!'  
  



	4. Chapter IV

"What if we tried to break him free from the gold sickness?" If Thorin were in his right mind, they could come to an agreement with Bard and Thranduil. Well, with Bard.  
  
Balin shook his head, an aged hand smoothing fretfully over an ancient tome. "Dragon sickness is not so easily lifted." He shook his head. "We tried with Thror."  
  
But Thorin was not his grandfather. Bilbo had seen him free of the sickness, broken free of his own strength of will. He had seen Thorin surfacing even when the gold's pull had been at its height.  
  
"I have seen him struggle against it." Bilbo spoke, his words filled with passion enough to lift Balin's head. But Bilbo had steadily been losing his staid Baggins respectability. If he had every truly possessed it. "When he is reminded of better things, I have seen a change. A return of warmth and reason." He drew himself up. "Better to make an attempt than to let Thorin continue as he is."  
  
Balin was silent for a long moment, fixing Bilbo with a considering stare. Finally he gave a small nod. "You might be right, laddie." He straightened and heaved a deep sigh. "Aye, it's worth a try."  
  
Relief unwound muscles strung tight. He hadn’t been certain Balin would agree.  
  


~x~X~x~

  
  
It was Dwalin who thrust the broach into his hands. A rough handover he hid with his body as they made their way down to the throne room.  
  
Bilbo tucked it up one sleeve, only daring to pull it out when Thorin was occupied with the search for the Arkenstone, wading through gold and jewels.  
  
Bilbo turned it over in his hands. A heavy angular piece with a large yellow stone in its centre and two slightly smaller stones to either side. But for all its size and weight, there was a delicacy to it. A hundred tiny prongs grasped the gems in a delicate basket; a fine tracery of small silver beads formed radiating lines that surrounded the stones like rays of the sun. The pin itself was a thin needle of matchless silver, untouched by age or neglect.  
  
Even Bilbo, who had little knowledge of gems and jewels, could see it was a kingly gift.  
  
A sudden shadow cast over the gold, the air warming behind him. Bilbo's ears twitched.  
  
"What have you there?" Thorin's voice was flat.  
  
Bilbo licked his lips. Closed his eyes to steel himself for a moment. He turned to find Thorin standing behind him, eyes fixed on his hand.  
  
Bilbo slowly unfurled his fingers, revealing the broach.  
  
Thorin stilled. He stared, transfixed.  
  
"I'm no judge of craftsmanship," Bilbo ventured, keeping a cautious eye on Thorin's expression. "But I suspect it holds some significance." He shifted uneasy in the face of Thorin's blank expression. "Some great worth."  
  
He held out the broach.  
  
Thorin slowly reached out. The broach looked ridiculously fragile in his large hands  
  
"It is worthy of a queen." Thorin said quietly. "So my father said when he presented it to my mother."  
  
The broach had belonged to Thorin's mother. Bilbo held his breath.  
  
Thorin stared down at the piece, eye soft with memory, the harsh lines of his face smoothing.  
  
"She must have been very beautiful." Bilbo ventured.  
  
A smile appeared, wide and warm.  
  
Very beautiful if Thorin had inherited her smile.  
  
"She was not a great beauty." Thorin spoke softly, a finger gently tracing over the centremost stone. "But she shone like mithril in torchlight and had a will of iron."  
  
Bilbo smiled. "Much like her son."  
  
Thorin's head shot up, eyes wide.  
  
There was a clatter. Thorin's eyes shot sideways at the sound, growing distant and cold as gold met his gaze.  
  
"We have no time for distractions." Thorin carelessly thrust the broach back at Bilbo.  
  
Bilbo hastily grabbed the precious piece to stop it falling.  
  
Thorin stalked along the dais, the broach forgotten. "The Arkenstone must be found."  
  
Bilbo stared after him, broach clasped in his hands. He finally glanced out at the treasure.  
  
Balin had drawn close to watch Thorin's reaction. His face crumbled at Thorin's dismissal. He gave Bilbo a hopeless look and returned to the hoard, poking through the coins with slumped shoulders.  
  
Dwalin, expressionless, dug among the gold coins more harshly. Gold coins flying up in an angry arc.  
  


~x~X~x~

  
  
Thorin lay still on the ice, blood a widening stain that soaked the fur of his coat.  
  
Bilbo fell to his knees at Thorin's side. Reached out and laid a shaking hand to his still chest.  
  
He searched Thorin's face, unable to see anything but a horrible blankness that was worse than dragon sickness.  
  
Throat tight, Bilbo leaned forward and pressed his forehead to Thorin's. "I'm sorry."  
  
He pulled the broach out from the neck of his shirt, placing it on Thorin's chest and folding his large fingers around it.  
  
Tomorrow. He would try again tomorrow.  
  


~x~X~x~

  
  
Balin shook his head. "You tried, laddie." He clapped Bilbo on the shoulder, watching Thorin pace across the gold far below. "No one can ask any more than that."  
  
Bilbo stared down at Thorin. Still fixated on the Arkenstone, still caught by the gleam of gold.  
  
His appeals had been for nothing. Not even the mention of his sister and sister-sons had made any difference. Thorin was held in thrall to the gold around him.  
  
"Only Thorin can pull himself free of the sickness.” Balin's eyes were filled with despair as he turned away. “Until then he is still our king. We must obey his orders."  
  
He didn't believe Thorin would, Bilbo realized. Had anyone seen those hard earned moments when Thorin had come back to himself? Had it only been him?  
  
Bilbo's gaze returned to Thorin as Balin walked away. He had managed to reach Thorin, if only for a moment.  
  
He might still be able.  
  


~x~X~x~

  
  
Thorin was still pacing across the gold when Bilbo found him, his heavy coat falling heavy around his legs. The gold _chinked_ and slid under his shoes.  
  
"Thorin."  
  
Thorin turned, swinging around to face Bilbo. He stared at him, eyebrows lowering. "Master Baggins."  
  
He hadn’t heard Thorin call him by his name for days. Weeks. He missed it. The lack pained him almost as much as the distance in Thorin’s eyes.  
  
“If there is to be battle, you must keep up your strength.” The rest of the Company had eaten. Settling aside a share for their king if he cared to eat it.  
  
And Bilbo. He hadn’t been able to stomach anything.  
  
Thorin gave him a dismissive look. “I am not hungry.” His voice darkened. “I am not so easily distracted from my duty.” His gaze fixed on the upper hallway where the rest of the Company had retreated.  
  
“In the Shire eating is regarded as a duty.” Bilbo rocked on his heels, uncertain under Thorin’s returned gaze. “Feeding one’s family even more so.”  
  
Thorin stared at him for a moment. And then a small smile crossed his face, his eyes lightening. “Your duty?”  
  
Bilbo nodded, drawing himself up self-importantly. It felt a strange, unfamiliar action. “Of course. Caring for those dear to us is the most important task a hobbit has.”  
  
Thorin blinked.  
  
“As dwarves believe if the Company is any indication.” Bilbo continued. “They worry about you.”  
  
A hint of uncertainty entered Thorin’s eyes.  
  
"Any of the Company would die for you." Bilbo said firmly. He held Thorin's gaze, clear for this short moment, of any sickness. "I would die for you."  
  
And have done.  
  
Thorin expression softened into a look of open fondness. "I would not see it come to that." He took a step closer, large and warm. "No army of elves or men will reach the heart of the mountain.”  
  
His hand reached out and cupped Bilbo’s shoulder, engulfing the joint protectively. “And no harm will come to you here.” His eyes narrowed. "The others-"  
  
He was losing him. Bilbo stepped forward, close, almost as close as their embrace long ago on the Carrock.  
  
Or in the grip Thorin had held him on the gate.  
  
Bilbo pushed the thought away. "Love you as their kin. Their king." He pressed a hand to Thorin’s chest, hoping to see the return of some of the tenderness he had shown.  
  
Hard hands caught him and pulled him away. Thorin stared down at him, eyes glittering and hard. "You speak with a golden tongue. Never have you spoken so to me." Suspicion lit in his eyes.  
  
"I care for you." Bilbo refused to look away, knowing Thorin would see it as an admission of guilt. "I worry that you neglect yourself."  
  
Thorin stared at him for a long moment. But finally he gave a small scoff, his grip loosening. "Do not underestimate the hardiness of dwarves. It would take more than a lack of meals to weaken me."  
  
He released Bilbo. "Call the others. We must make the most of our time."  
  
Bilbo slowly walked away, casting glances over his shoulder. Heart sinking with defeat.  
  
There was no getting through to Thorin now.  
  
He smothered the thought that it only seemed to be getting worse.  
  


~x~X~x~

  
  
"It's no trick." Bilbo stepped forward in resignation, not willing to let the blame fall on anyone else. "I gave it to them."  
  
Thorin turned, fixing Bilbo with a disturbing stare Bilbo had never seen before.  
  
"What do you say, King Under the Mountain?" Bard's voice rang out, drawing Thorin's attention back to the army gathered below.  
  
Bard tossed the Arkenstone into the air. It was a casual, almost mocking gesture. But it did not end the way Bard intended.  
  
The glowing stone slipped from his fingers. Fell to shatter on the ground near his horse's hooves.  
  
For a moment there was silence. Bard staring at the shattered gem in horror, Thranduil's expression one of shock.  
  
The Company was utterly still, staring down at the glittering shards scattered before the gate.  
  
With a sense of growing dread, Bilbo looked to Thorin.  
  
The dwarf was like a statue, not even breathing.  
  
And then he turned, his glittering eyes fixed on Bilbo.  
  
There was madness in his gaze. As if the breaking of the Arkenstone had severed what grasp he had held to his former self.  
  
Bilbo automatically stepped back even before Thorin started to advance.  
  
"You have brought this upon me." Thorin's voice was a harsh whisper. "It has been you all along."  
  
Bilbo backed up, away from the wall that Thorin had tried to throw him from dozens of times.  
  
"You and your lying golden tongue!" Thorin drew his sword, throwing off his nephews’ clutching hands.  
  
Bilbo backed away. This was not the Thorin he knew. This was not-  
  
Thorin moved fast. His sword even faster.  
  


~x~X~x~

  
  
It took Bilbo a long time to gather the courage to face Thorin again. He kept seeing the fury that had flooded Thorin's eyes, turning them a brittle pale sky blue. The betrayal that had twisted his face.  
  
The vicious swipe of his sword.  
  
Bilbo found himself flinching away, cringing when Thorin's gaze fell on him.  
  
And the rest of the Company was beginning to notice.  
  


~x~X~x~

  
  
"Master Baggins." Bilbo barely restrained his flinch.  
  
Thorin stared at him, suspicion slowly growing. "You have been uncommonly quiet of late."  
  
Bilbo was aware that the Company had slowed in their search, glancing up to watch the conversation between their king and burglar.  
  
"Have I?" The question sounded unconvincing to this own ears.  
  
Thorin stepped closer.  
  
Bilbo shifted, suppressing the growing urge to retreat.  
  
Thorin stopped, barely a foot away. He stared for a long moment, eyes fixed on Bilbo's face. "You are uneasy among us."  
  
Bilbo couldn't help himself. His gaze flickered out to the treasury, searching for an escape route.  
  
The ring sat heavy in his pocket.  
  
Thorin's eyes narrowed. He glanced out at the rest of the Company, his expression growing dark.  
  
Bilbo knew what was on his mind. _Betrayal._  
  
"Thorin." Thorin's gaze returned to him and Bilbo licked his bottom lip, a nervous tic he had never been able to check. "Our food supplies are growing low-" He broke off, staring in disbelief.  
  
Thorin was smiling. His look of suspicion had faded into amusement.  
  
It had been a long time since Thorin had looked at him like that.  
  
"Fear not, Master Burglar." His lips curled up in amusement as he set a hand on Bilbo's shoulder. "We will not let you starve."  
  
Bilbo gave him a weak smile.  
  
"When Erebor is secure, you will be able to eat whatever you wish." Thorin's smile faded. "The men and elves will not linger for much longer." His hand tightened on Bilbo's shoulder for a moment before slipping free. "If they do not leave of their own accord then we will make them."  
  
Bilbo stood on the dais, dull despair filling his heart as he watched Thorin walk away. There would be war.  
  


~x~X~x~

  
  
There was.  
  


~x~X~x~

  
  
Bilbo paused as he entered the communal room the Company had claimed as their own. The fire was lit, as it always was, but there was a dwarf sitting by the fire.  
  
Bifur. Knife and a half-carved block of wood in hand.  
  
The fire was a beckoning spot of warmth and Bilbo slowly made his way over, sinking down onto an old pillow that had been placed by the fire.  
  
Bifur looked up as Bilbo sat and gave a small nod before turning back to his carving.  
  
Bilbo stared into the flames, soaking up the warmth and enjoying the rare moment of calm. He would have to seek out Thorin soon. Try to find a way to break him free of the dragon sickness.  
  
Somehow.  
  
He sat, listening to the measured scrapping as Bifur carved small curls of wood from the figure forming in his hands.  
  
"Has he eaten?" The words slipped out before Bilbo could stop them.  
  
Bifur glanced up, his dark eyes reflecting the dancing flames, and shook his head, expression lacking its usually fierceness.  
  
He hadn't thought so. If there wasn't a battle on the morrow, Bilbo suspected Thorin actually would have managed to starve himself.  
  
Bilbo watched the flames. He was tired and the fire was comfortable. And just for once, he wanted to enjoy it.  
  
It was a burst of Khuzdul that jerked him out of his daze. Bilbo looked over to see Bifur holding out a closed hand.  
  
Bilbo looked at Bofur uncertainly. But after another burst of Khuzdul and a gesture from Bifur with his closed hand, he hesitantly reached forward.  
  
Bifur pressed something into Bilbo's palm with large and gentle fingers. He spoke again, something soft, and pressed the object into Bilbo palm once more before withdrawing his hand.  
  
Bilbo looked down at what Bifur had just given him. It was a dwarven figure. A dwarf with long hair, a sword in one hand, a long thick branch held in the other.  
  
"Thorin?" Bilbo looked up at Bifur for confirmation.  
  
Bifur nodded. Raised the hand that held the knife and slapped his forearm with his other hand.  
  
Oakenshield.  
  
Bilbo turned the small figure over in his hands. Saw the wavy lines Bifur had carved into his hair, the repeating pattern of his mail and the ruff of fur at his collar. The small Thorin stood proudly, eyes intent under their carven brows.  
  
A warrior. With nothing to indicate his noble heritage. No crown, no elaborate armour. It was how Bofur still saw Thorin.  
  
The Thorin they had all followed on this quest.  
  
He was still there. He just had to be reminded of that. Reminded that it was Thorin Oakenshield that they had followed on this quest.  
  
That it was the dwarf, not the king, who had earned their loyalty.  
  


~x~X~x~

  
  
Thorin stood on one of the walkways overlooking the throne room.  
  
For a moment, Bilbo hesitated, wary of the change. But finally he padded forward, feet silent on stone. “Thorin?” He called out before he got to close, not wanting to startle Thorin.  
  
For both their sakes.  
  
“Master Baggins.” Thorin didn’t turn, staring down at the gold below.  
  
Bilbo fought back a wave of despair. He stepped closer, creeping forward much in the way he had approached Smaug. “Did you rest?” He doubted it.  
  
Thorin cast him a glance over his shoulder, eyes glittering over the fur of his coat briefly before he turned back to the treasure below. “There is no rest when the Arkenstone has not been found.”  
  
And there would be nothing Bilbo could say to convince Thorin otherwise. He felt the figure Bifur had given him, resting in his waistcoat pocket and pressing gently against his side. “Why is the Arkenstone so important? Is it not enough that you have driven out Smaug and reclaimed the mountain?”  
  
Thorin stilled. He turned to face Bilbo, his eyes dark and searching. As if he suspected mockery or some ploy. His expression relaxed slightly as it became clear Bilbo’s question had been in earnest. “It is a symbol of my kingship.” Thorin’s eyes glittered. “The Heart of the Mountain, which came to the King of Erebor. The King’s Jewel. Its possession gives its bearer the power to unite the seven dwarven kingdoms.”  
  
Bilbo had never understood how the other dwarven kingdoms hadn’t given their support for the quest. Thorin’s longing for his lost home had been enough to convince Bilbo, to change his mind when reason and Baggins propriety had told him to refuse. He had faced a dragon for Thorin Oakenshield and his Company, not a dwarven king.  
  
Thorin had always been more than a king.  
  
“Thorin Oakenshield doesn’t need a jewel to show his worthiness.” Bilbo said quietly, holding Thorin’s gaze.  
  
Thorin’s brows lowered, his eyes narrowing.  
  
But Bilbo didn’t let him speak. “Thorin Oakenshield led his people to safety after their home had been lost to dragon fire.” His voice grew stronger as he _willed_ Thorin to hear him. “It was Thorin Oakenshield who defeated Azog the Defiler at the Battle of Azanulbizar.”  
  
Thorin stared at him, mouth parted slightly.  
  
“It was not a king who won the loyalty of twelve dwarves brave enough to face a dragon when no one else in Middle Earth would even think it.” Bilbo’s voice softened. “It was Thorin Oakenshield. The dwarf I followed out of Bag End.”  
  
Thorin’s eyes glistened.  
  
“The dwarf who dared to face Smaug.” Bilbo continued. “Who took back Erebor.”  
  
“Thorin Oakenshield who failed his people!” The words burst from Thorin’s mouth in a pained shout. “Thorin Oakenshield who wandered across Arda like a beggar, his people destitute and dying! Turned away by all we met.” His voice lowered to a ragged whisper. “Even our own kin.”  
  
“Thorin.” Bilbo reached for his arm, throat tight.  
  
Thorin straightened, pulling back out of reach. “But I am king now.” Thorin’s voice darkened. “And all will know it.”  
  


~x~X~x~

  
  
The figurine was gone when Bilbo woke up in Dale, his pocket empty except for the acorn and the ring.  
  
Its loss was like a wound, a space scraped raw.  
  


~x~X~x~

  
  
The Company worked in shifts. There were always several dwarves working in the treasury, searching for the Arkenstone.  
  
When Bilbo made his way to the room the Company had cleared, he found Bombur and the ‘Ri brothers. Bombur was stirring the stew pot hung over the fire. The others were seated at the table. Dori had found a teapot somewhere and was pouring a cup. Ori was scribbling in one of his journals while Nori idly flipped a small knife between his fingers.  
  
Dori looked up with a smile. "Master Baggins? Could I interest you in some tea?"  
  
Tea. It felt like he hadn't had any tea in years.  
  
"Yes, thank you, Dori." Bilbo took a seat at the table, Ori giving him a smile and Nori a nod.  
  
"I found it among the stores. Sealed tight and still fresh." Dori prattled as he filled another cup. "It's not camomile," he gave a small sigh, "but it's a good Harad brew."  
  
Bilbo accepted the offered cup with thanks. For a moment he simply cradled it, inhaling the gentle aroma of the pale brew.  
  
He drank, feeling the tense muscles in his shoulders unwind at the familiar ritual.  
  
"Maybe we should find something to give Thorin," Bilbo suggested tiredly.  
  
There was a clatter. Eyes wide, Bombur hastily reached out for his spoon before it could be lost in the stew.  
  
Bilbo looked around to find the ‘Ri brothers staring at him, just as shocked.  
  
"To help him relax." Bilbo hastened to clarify. From the looks they were giving him, it was as if he had suggested poison. "He needs rest." And if he had time to relax, he might be able to break free of the dragon sickness more easily.  
  
Dori still looked scandalised and Ori's eyes were wide. But Nori had a thoughtful expression on his face.  
  
"Might be a battle tomorrow." Nori's knife twirled through his fingers. "Thorin hasn't slept for days."  
  
Dori frowned but it was an expression of worry. His gaze fell to the teapot. "When did he last eat?"  
  
It was Bombur who replied, voice soft as he bent over the stew pot. "The night we entered the mountain."  
  
Ori blinked. "But that was four days ago."  
  
Dori's frown deepened. He turned toward Bombur. "Bombur, another bowl, please."  
  


~x~X~x~

  
  
Bilbo found himself bringing Thorin a bowl of stew. Not for the first time. But now he had Dori and Ori trailing behind him, Dori walking with brisk steps and Ori scurrying along in his wake.  
  
Bilbo concentrated on not spilling the soup rather than the reception that might await them. Thorin's gold sickness made him unpredictable from day to day. Bilbo only hoped that this encounter wouldn't be one of the dangerous ones.  
  
Gold glittered, a shimmering wave that almost swamped the throne room. Bilbo walked along the walkway the Company had cleared, heading towards the throne where Thorin stood.  
  
Thorin turned at his arrival, eyes fixing on Bilbo before narrowing and turning from Dori to Ori.  
  
Bilbo didn't like the way he looked at them.  
  
"Thorin." Bilbo made his way closer, each step slow and careful. "I brought you dinner."  
  
Thorin's eyes narrowed as he approached. "Did you make it?" His gaze slid sideways. "Or someone else?"  
  
"Thorin, there's nothing wrong with the stew." Thorin's gaze swung toward Bilbo, eyes wild. "Look." Bilbo took up the spoon. "I'll try it if you-"  
  
The spoon clattered to the ground.  
  
Thorin stood in front of him, chest heavying. "Do not touch it!" The words were rasped out.  
  
Bilbo stood stunned. Bowl still clasped in one hand the other still hovering limply above it.  
  
Thorin was already rounding on Dori and Ori. "Did you think I would not notice?"  
  
Ori shrank back, hands clutched anxiously in front of his chest.  
  
Dori shifted nervously but took a half step forward, drawing Thorin's attention away from his younger brother. "You haven't eaten for days, Your Majesty, and-"  
  
"And you decided to act." Thorin finished darkly. "To move against your king."  
  
Things had gone very wrong, very quickly.  
  
The stew was sloshing, the bowl wobbling in Bilbo's grip. "Thorin." Bilbo reached out with his other hand, fingers brushing the heavy fur of Thorin's cloak. "Thorin. It's only ste-"  
  
Thorin snatched the bowl from his hand, throwing it to the ground. Stew spattered over the dais, the bowl hitting stone with a clunk and bouncing high out on to the gold where the Company had stopped searching.  
  
"They have taken it." Thorin spoke with dark conviction. "Taken it and now they seek to take the rest."  
  
Dori's eyes were large, his face pale. But he pulled himself upright, a dignified facade as he answered the accusation. "Your Majesty. We would never-"  
  
"I will not tolerate disloyalty!" Thorin spat out. Before anyone could move, he had drawn his sword. The long blade cutting up across Dori's chest. Blood spurting up in a high jetting arc.  
  
Bilbo stood stunned. Dori. No-  
  
Dori fell back, collapsing onto the dais, blood staining his silver hair.  
  
"Dori!" Ori's eyes were wide with horror as he ran forward.  
  
He never made it to Dori's side.  
  
Bilbo's eyes squeezed shut against the spray, and flinched at the impact. A thousand warm droplets painting his face and chest.  
  
No. Thorin wouldn’t do this. He wouldn't kill Ori over a bowl of stew-  
  
There was shouting.  
  
Bilbo pried his eyes open, the lashes heavy and wet. Dwalin stood facing Thorin, an arm held out to hold Kili back. Fili was pale faced, a hand holding tightly to one of Kili's arms.  
  
And Thorin faced them with a bloody sword. Madness glittering in his eyes and suspicion shuttering his expression.  
  
Bilbo drew in a deep breath. And stepped forward.  
  


~x~X~x~

  
  
Bilbo woke with a start. The acorn in his pocket, pressing hard into his side.  
  
Alfrid kicked the door at his scream.  
  


~x~X~x~

  
  
He couldn’t break Thorin free of his madness.  
  
But Bilbo might be able to prevent his death.


	5. Chapter V

"You have already made your trade, Halfling." Thranduil spoke with annoyance barely hidden behind courtesy, his mouth pulled tight in mockery.  
  
"I've come to bargain for the Arkenstone's return." Bilbo had just managed to escape the mountain unseen and he was in no mood for Thranduil's disdain.  
  
"At Oakenshield's request, or your own?" The elven king lifted his brow exchanging an amused look with Bard. "As gratifying as your eagerness to demonstrate your loyalty for your friends is, I can't see anything here that I would trade for the Arkenstone-"  
  
Bilbo pulled the pouch from his coat and tossed it to the table, white stones spilling forth and lighting the tent.  
  
Thranduil stood from his chair, eyes wide and one hand already reaching forward.   
  
"Your white stones for the Arkenstone." Bilbo glanced at Bard, who had lost all trace of amusement. He was staring at Thranduil with sudden worry.  
  
"For the people of Lake-town-" Bilbo tossed a small pouch at Bard which the archer caught easily. "A down payment for Thorin's pledge."  
  
Bard opened the pouch, spilling the hundreds of small gems Bilbo had gathered into one hasty hand. He looked at Bilbo with a mix of wonder and grim realization. "Thorin Oakenshield will not part willingly with his gold."  
  
"And so I will give you mine. That is a small part of my share. Enough to provide shelter and start the rebuilding of Dale." Bilbo held the man's gaze, willing him to accept reason. "The rest I will give to you when the mountain is no longer under siege." He would smuggle it out a handful at a time if he had to.  
  
Bard glanced at Thranduil.  
  
The elven king had opened the pouch wide to reveal a shining white necklace and its bed of starlight stones. "Hand over the Arkenstone." His gaze was fixed on the gems.  
  
Bard cast him a dubious look, then glanced back at the gems in his palm. He poured them back into the pouch and then reached into his shirt.  
  
Bilbo let out a breath, refusing to let his shoulders sag.   
  
Bard unwrapped the bundle he retrieved, showing the unmistakable glow of the stone within before wrapping it again. He held out the Arkenstone.  
  
Bilbo reached out to take it, fingers closing over the wrapped stone.  
  
Bard held onto it, meeting Bilbo's gaze. "You have kept your word and I believe you will do as you say. But I do not think Thorin Oakenshield will willingly part with any gold." His eyes darkened. "Not even to you."  
  
Bilbo tightened his grip on the Arkenstone, pulling it from Bard’s grip. “You will have your gold, even so.” If it came to that. Their survival was doubtful.  
  
Bilbo tucked the Arkenstone into his coat. "And so we are agreed.” Bilbo glanced from Bard to Thranduil. “You will not bring your armies against the mountain."   
  
Thranduil inclined his head with a curve to his lips that could not be called a smile. He scooped the gems off the table, pouring them back into the pouch, tying it shut.   
  
He stood, gesturing to his guards. They entered the tent, heading towards the bedding in the corner. Starting to fold and pack.  
  
Bilbo stood aside automatically, even as he gave the elven king a sharp stare.  
  
Thranduil fixed him with a cold look. "I've reclaimed what I came for. There is no reason to stay here any longer."  
  
Bard moved to stand in front of him, blocking his way. "You would leave in the dead of night? Leaving us here?"  
  
Thranduil stared down at him, gaze chill. "I told you, Bard Bowman. I did not come to give you aid."  
  
"You can't just leave." Bilbo flung his hand out to the north. "There's an army of orcs-"  
  
"Yes, I've heard Mithrandir's gloomy predictions." Thranduil cut him off. "And place little stock in them."  
  
He gestured and two of the guards stationed outside the tent entered, taking up positions next to Bard and Bilbo. "Our business is concluded."  
  
Exchanging a worried glance with Bard, Bilbo let himself be escorted out of the tent.  
  
This wasn't how it was meant to happen.  
  


~x~X~x~

  
  
Bilbo climbed up the wall and painstakingly pulled himself over the top. It was not the first time he had climbed it this night and he was tired.  
  
Tired. But he had the Arkenstone.  
  
Bilbo coiled up the rope and hid it behind a fallen stone. Not willing to be exposed, he ducked into one of the tunnels leading off the balcony, wedging himself into a small nook he had found.  
  
Bilbo retrieved the stone from his coat, pulling it free of the cloth that wrapped it. The blue-white light of the mountain's heart spilled out around his fingers. Bilbo stared into its depths, gazing at the strange mix of colours at its heart.  
  
It was beautiful. But beautiful enough to drive someone mad?  
  
Should he give it to Thorin? Would it corrupt him as Smaug had promised?   
  
Could he afford not to make the attempt?  
  
Bilbo wrapped the stone and tucked it away again. He closed his eyes and leant his head back against the cold stone. At this point he was willing to try anything if it meant Thorin would not die before him.  
  
There was a soft scrape.  
  
Bilbo's eyes flew open. Thorin stood several steps down the corridor, just inside one of the archways that marked a side tunnel. His face was in shadow but Bilbo could feel Thorin's gaze on him.  
  
Heart beating hard enough to choke him, Bilbo scrambled to his feet. Had Thorin seen the Arkenstone? How long had he been standing there, watching?  
  
"I could not find you." Thorin's voice was soft but it echoed perfectly down the corridor to Bilbo's ears. Growing louder as Thorin approached.  
  
Bilbo's heart was suddenly beating at a frightened, speedy thrum. "I needed some air."  
  
Thorin was in front of him now, face half in shadow, half a blank mask. "How long have you had it?"  
  
Bilbo could feel the blood drain from his face. "Thorin-"  
  
"Did you have it when you stood at my side?" A hint of roughness entered Thorin's deadly quiet voice. "When my kin searched without rest?"  
  
He pressed close, backing Bilbo against the wall. "When did you betray me?"  
  
The ring was in his pocket, a beckoning escape.  
  
Thorin's hand closed around Bilbo's throat pinning him to the wall. "You will not betray me again."  
  


~x~x~x~

  
  
He couldn't simply trade for the Arkenstone, Bilbo realized. They needed Thranduil's army and only the white gems would convince him to stay. And there was nothing else he could trade to get the Arkenstone back.  
  
He needed to steal it.  
  
Bilbo crept towards the elven tents, ring on his finger. At night, the torches were flickering embers burning like gold eyes, the tents a pale blur. The elves that patrolled the area were pale and sharp, like thin shards of ice.  
  
He had found that it was not Thranduil who held the Arkenstone but Bard. Stealing from Thranduil's war tent was almost impossible. But taking the Arkenstone back from Bard...  
  
Bard had taken up shelter in one of the ruined houses of Dale. But to reach Bard's temporary house, Bilbo needed to get past the elves.  
  
Which, Bilbo had found out, was not easy, even invisible as he was.  
  
Mirkwood was the elves' home, their own defended keep. Here in the ruins of Dale, prepared for war on the morrow, the elves were much more alert. Actively looking for intruders and the smallest sign of attack.  
  
Bilbo kept to the shadows. Slowly edging along the crumbling buildings that lined the square Thranduil had filled with his tents.  
  
Several times an elven sentry walked close, steps slowing as they searched the area.  
  
Bilbo stood still, holding his breath as the pale elves drew close, forms blurred and bright. Only when the sentries moved on did he start forward again, placing each foot carefully and silently.  
  
He was close to Thranduil's tent when he made a mistake.  
  
Bilbo stumbled. The rubble of a fallen tile shifting under his foot.  
  
Quick as thought, one of the elves set an arrow to his bow.  
  
The arrow flew through the night, a dark splinter.  
  
Swift and accurate.   
  


~x~X~x~

  
  
Elven senses are keen.  
  
Even invisible, they stalk him down.  
  
But Bilbo has time and death never lasts. He manages in the end.   
  


~x~x~x~

  
  
Thorin's roar could be heard throughout the mountain, a mighty bellow of triumph. It sent a shard of fear into Bilbo's heart.  
  
The sound was a mocking shadow of Thorin's joy at finding the hidden door, both gloating and possessive, a dark triumph that suited Thorin ill.   
  
Bilbo watched from his perch on one of the many walkways above the treasury. Watched as Thorin lifted the Arkenstone far above his head, its blue-white light washing over him, casting his face to crueller lines, the crown on his head to icy sharp points.  
  
The rest of the Company had gathered round and slowly they sunk to their knees in gold, one by one.   
  
Bilbo slipped away, unable to watch any more.  
  


~x~X~x~

  
  
It was Fili who found him. Bilbo looked up at the heavy tread of armoured dwarven footsteps, wary and resigned.  
  
"Thorin is looking for you." Fili's expression held an echo of the fear held in Bilbo's heart. And the grim resolve that he had held since entering the mountain.  
  
Bilbo looked up from the acorn held in his palm. If time flowed correctly it would be worn smooth from the thousands of hours he had held it tight.   
  
"Is he worse?" It had been hard to tell from his distant perch. The fixation of gold replaced with that of a single stone.  
  
Fili didn't answer but his expression was answer enough.  
  
Bilbo nodded to himself, a sad sag of his head. "Balin was right, then." He had hoped despite the fear in his heart. Hoped that they had both been wrong. That Smaug's words had been joyful lies with no truth but the intent to drive a wedge between Thorin and himself.  
  
 _Your life is worth nothing!_   
  
"Balin?" Fili was frowning.  
  
"I asked if having the Arkenstone would help." It had been worth an attempt. They might have both been wrong. Thorin might have broken free of the gold sickness once he had found what he sought.  
  
A shadow dimmed Fili's eyes. "Did you have it all this time?"  
  
Bilbo stood, slowly brushing off his pants, uselessly trying to rid himself of the dust he had accumulated. "It matters little now." He had given the Arkenstone to Thorin and there was no taking it back.  
  


~x~X~x~

  
  
The Arkenstone had been placed on the throne of Durin, brilliant and coldly beautiful. And sitting below it, bathed in the Arkenstone's light sat Thorin, his once warm eyes cold and distant, a small cruel smile adorning his lips. His smile widened, glee lighting his gaze as Bilbo approached. "Behold the Arkenstone, Heart of the Mountain."   
  
Bilbo drew in a breath, steadying himself. "Then you have accomplished all you set out to do, Thorin son of Thrain, son of Thror." He met Thorin's gaze, hands fisted in his ragged coat to hide his shaking hands. "What do you intend to do now, King Under the Mountain?"  
  
Thorin's gaze darkened.  
  
"The armies of the woodland elves and Lake-town lie outside your gates." Bilbo ignored Balin's shaking head, Bombur's frightened face. "I vouched for you at Lake-town, Thorin. I gave my word." As a Baggins.  
  
As a vassal stood for the honour of their king.  
  
Kili opened his mouth to say something but Fili caught his brother's arm tight, his worried gaze flicking from Thorin to Bilbo and back again. The rest of the Company shifted uneasily.   
  
Thorin's hands grasped the arms of the throne on which he sat. He slowly stood, a move of leashed power that almost made Bilbo step back. Standing before his throne and haloed in the light of the Arkenstone, it was suddenly apparent how much power was coiled in the thick lines of Thorin's body.  
  
"For which I am grateful." Thorin's voice was low but it carried throughout the vast chamber. Thorin prowled closer with long slow deliberate steps. "As I am grateful that you have secured the Arkenstone for me." Thorin stopped before him, staring down at Bilbo with warmer eyes. "You have fulfilled your contract admirably, my burglar."  
  
For a moment, just for a moment, Bilbo could see a hint of the Thorin he knew and loved.  
  
"You promised a share of Erebor's wealth to the people of Lake-town, Thorin."  
  
Thorin's face shuttered. "That was before they came armed to the mountain!" He flung out an arm towards the piles of gold and gems around them. "To take what was not theirs by force!"  
  
"They're starving, Uncle!" It was Kili, broken free of Fili's grasp. "They've lost their home-"  
  
"Do you not think I know of loss?!" Thorin turned to face Kili with all the speed of a coiled snake. "What it is to lose a home?!"  
  
"Uncle." Fili stepped forward, drawing Thorin's attention away from Kili. "We were given shelter and supplies. We owe them-"  
  
"We owe them nothing!" Thorin's hand landed on Bilbo's shoulder, drawing him close. "They have acted in their own interest to lay claim to our gold and have shown themselves false." His fingers dug into Bilbo's shoulder. "I will not part with a single coin!"  
  
Bofur shuffled, hat in hand, eyeing the hand clawing into Bilbo's shoulder. "Perhaps we might-"  
  
Thorin turned, his hand lifting free. "I will not suffer disloyalty." His heavy coat swung violently as he walked. "I am king here! I have taken back Erebor and hold the Arkenstone!"   
  
Thorin settled onto the throne, eyes narrowing and mouth thinning. "I will call upon the seven armies. Then we shall see what demands Men and Elves will make of Durin’s folk." A cold smile curled his lips. "They will rue the day they threatened Thorin, son of Thrain, son of Thror, King under the Mountain."  
  
Balin closed his eyes, a look of pain on his face, tears trailing down his worn face.  
  
Bilbo stood where Thorin had left him. Filled with the terrible certainty he had made the situation a hundred times worse.   
  


~x~X~x~

  
  
Bard reached into his coat, pulling out a wrapped bundle that he started to unwind. He froze as the cloth fell away and a large round river stone was revealed.  
  
Thorin lifted his brows in mocking enquiry. "Is that what you offer?" He turned and gave Bilbo, held at his side, a glance that offered shared amusement. "A simple stone? We may be dwarves but we are not so easily won as that."  
  
The Company burst out laughing, shouting cat calls to the men and elves below.  
  
Bard was looking at the stone in shock. His gaze shot back up to the wall, to Bilbo.   
  
Bilbo looked away, unable to face the man’s look of betrayal.  
  
The laughter faded from Thorin's face. "You came with an army to steal the wealth of my people." He sneered. "To make demands when you have no claim."  
  
"No claim?" Bard leaned forward in his saddle, desperation tightening his voice. "The dragon stole from Dale and Lake-town. It is only right that we receive our due of the gold within the mountain."  
  
Thorin's expression darkened. "I am King Under the Mountain, Ruler of the Seven Dwarf Kingdoms." His large hands tightened on the top of the wall. "I will not be threatened by an army at my gate!"  
  
Bard briefly closed his eyes. "Then you have made your choice."  
  
Even as he spoke a raven approached the gate. It landed on the wall, large and glossy. Its intelligent eyes fixed on Bilbo for a moment before turning to Thorin.  
  
It spoke. Words in Khuzdul.  
  
Thorin's smile grew fierce. "And you have made yours!" It was shouted down with vicious satisfaction.  
  
A horn blew.   
  
All eyes turned to the east. To the approaching army, a dark line at the top of the ridge.  
  
Another deeper horn sounded out. And another.   
  
An army was approaching from the south. Another from the west.   
  
Thorin’s smile was almost gleeful. "I will have war!"   
  


~x~X~x~

  
  
Thorin wore his grandfather's armour. Well-armoured and bearing a sword from the treasury, he cut effortlessly through orcs and goblins before him.   
  
He fought with a power, a ferocity Bilbo had never seen before. A warg in dwarven form.  
  
Bilbo looked on in horror as Thorin carved great swathes through the army of orcs.  
  
It should have given him hope. He should have been relieved that the situation had changed so much. That Thorin was strong and looked unbeatable.  
  
But the niggling doubt he had borne only grew. And turned to worry as Thorin cut down an elf that stood between him and an orc. As Thorin stepped over the elf's corpse to cut down the orcs behind him.  
  
It could have been an accident, an act of instinct rather than deliberate malice. But Bilbo knew better. Thorin did not make such mistakes in battle.  
  
The thought caused a flicker of fear to grow in Bilbo's heart. With the Arkenstone in his grasp, Thorin looked to be unbeatable. But where would he stop?   
  


~x~X~x~

  
  
The elves formed a defensive barrier around their king, a thick phalanx of armour and weapons. But a small one. Many had been cut down by the orcs.  
  
Even more by the dwarves.  
  
Thorin stood before his army, his armour darkened by black orc blood and the bright red of the elves. He was flanked by Fili and Kili, both grim-faced and apprehensive.   
  
"Drop your weapons." Thorin ordered, his face specked with blood. "Surrender."  
  
"Under what terms?" Thranduil sneered. "What guarantee do I have you will spare our lives?"  
  
"Complete surrender." A slight smile curved Thorin's lips. "As to your safety, you have my word."  
  
Thranduil's lips twisted as if he had just drunk something bitter. "Your word." The elven king drew himself up, staring down at Thorin. "What is the word of a _nogoth_ worth?"  
  
The dwarven army had gone quiet. Deathly so.  
  
Thorin eyes were cold as he regarded the elven king. "Your decision is clear." He drew his sword. "We will wipe your treacherous race from the face of the earth! Never again will you betray Durin's folk!"  
  
"Thorin!" Bilbo's protest was smothered in the roar of approval by the gathered dwarves. He made to move forward, only to be held back by Balin.  
  
"Not now, laddie." The older dwarf's voice was filled with warning, his eyes resigned.  
  
Thranduil's elven guard closed ranks but the outcome was inevitable.  
  
It was a slaughter.  
  


~x~X~x~

  
  
Thorin flicked the blood from Thranduil's sword. He studied blade for a moment before sheathing it and tossing it towards Dain. "A souvenir for you, cousin."  
  
Dain caught it with a snort of disgust. "I prefer Dwarven steel to a weed-eater's needle."  
  
Laughter ran out from the dwarven warriors in hearing distance.  
  
Bilbo was silent, staring at the mound of corpses piled behind Thorin. Elven armour and pale hair stained with blood.  
  
The last of the Elven army.  
  
The last of Thranduil.  
  
"Bilbo."  
  
Thorin stood close, a smile on his face. Teeth white against the blood spatter patterning his skin.  
  
He gripped Bilbo's shoulder's, bending to press his forehead against Bilbo's. Bilbo could feel his hair, wet with blood, smear coldly across his cheek.  
  
Thorin pulled back. "We have won, my burglar." Thorin's gaze was _playful_. "Taken back what is ours. None will challenge us now."  
  
He straightened. "Take his head." He commanded the dwarves piling bodies. "Hang it from the wall."  
  
Bilbo closed his eyes. Balin had been right. The Arkenstone had claimed the Thorin Bilbo had known. Left _this_ in its wake. A sickness worse than a lust for gold. Power madness, cruelty twisted deep and a thirst for dominion.  
  
Bilbo opened his eyes, catching Balin's pained expression. Dwalin's blank face.  
  
Thorin's gaze fell on Dale, eyes narrowing. "Let it be a lesson for those who would seek to threaten Durin's folk."   
  
It was not the end, Bilbo suddenly realized with dull horror. Thorin had only started.   
  


~x~X~x~

  
  
Bilbo didn't try to give Thorin the Arkenstone again.  
  
~x~X~x~  
  
Sindarin:  
 _Nogoth_ \- dwarf


	6. Chapter VI

Thorin's madness was like a flood, ebbing and flowing beyond restraint. Dragging Thorin deep and beyond help.  
  
Thorin was the only one who could break himself free.  
  
It didn't stop Bilbo from trying, though he never pushed for results in the way he had.  
  
Instead Bilbo focused on the battle. It was there that Fili, Kili and Thorin had lost their lives. And it was there, with the help, he might save them.   
  


~x~X~x~

  
  
Bilbo seeks out Dwalin. Dwalin who refused to follow Thorin’s orders at the gate and had helped try to break Thorin free of the dragon sickness once before.  
  
But Dwalin is loyal even now. He will not accept anything that can be seen as treason.   
  
Bilbo knows his shove isn't intended to harm him.   
  
Bilbo's feet, once nimble and silent, drag with terror and weariness. He stumbles. Back and over the side of the walkway.  
  
The pile of spears in the treasury below does the rest.  
  


~x~X~x~

  
  
Bilbo found Balin in a room filled with dusty crumbling books.  
  
"Is there no way to come to an agreement?" Something that would prevent the bloodbath the new day would bring.  
  
Balin regarded him with weary eyes. A look of warning. "Nothing short of treachery. Thorin is king, his word is law."  
  
Bilbo's heart sank. Even if he could convince the Company to act, Thorin would see it as betrayal.  
  
And Bilbo had seen the worst resulting from that thought.  
  
Balin shook his head. "I'm sorry, lad. Thorin is king. They'll be no changing his mind."   
  


~x~X~x~

  
  
The ice cracked ominously below Bilbo's feet and he froze, arms held out from his body to balance himself.  
  
Fili stopped in his tracks, eyes wide as the ice gave out a low moan. He stilled, halting his advance across the breaking ice, eyes filled with fearful frustration as he glanced towards Thorin.  
  
Thorin where he circled Azog, both of them carefully edging sideways on their tilting disc of ice.  
  
Where Thorin was likely to die if they couldn't get to him soon.  
  
"Fili!" Kili shouted across the frozen river where he and Dwalin were caught in their own battle. He punched an orc in the face before kicking it back onto thinner ice.  
  
The impact broke a hole and with a howl, the orc fell into the freezing water.  
  
Letting out a yell, Dwalin threw an axe at the orc that had been making its way towards Fili. "Watch yer back!"  
  
The orc fell, mouth gaping and the ice let out another deep groan that rippled under Bilbo's feet.  
  
Fili made to edge closer towards Thorin only to freeze at the loud noise the ice made beneath his boots.  
  
" _Hon lûmpul, kozadayil._ " Azog's dire smile was visible where he faced Bilbo.  
  
Thorin ignored him, shifting sideways, his leg stiff.  
  
He was leaving red stains on the snow. It was injury enough to slow him down.  
  
Thorin couldn't afford that with Azog.  
  
Bilbo edged forward. The ice groaned but not as loudly as it had for Fili. Bilbo took a step forward. And another.  
  
"Bilbo!" Fili tried to follow him but stopped as the ice protested loudly. It cracked, small splinter lines branching out, stopping the young Durin in his place.  
  
Bilbo ignored him, concentrating on getting as close to Thorin and Azog as he could. There wasn't much he could do in a full-on fight but- His hand crept to the pouch at his belt, reaching for the last stone inside.   
  
Azog lunged forward, blade swiping at Thorin's head.  
  
Thorin ducked, letting the blade cut safely through the air above him. Leaning forward to prevent the tipping sheet of ice from dumping him into the icy water.  
  
The ice sheet tipped back the other way, sinking under Azog's weight-  
  
And Bilbo's stone got Azog across the back of the head.  
  
Blood sprayed into the air. Azog stumbled forward. For a moment it looked like he was going to land on Thorin's sword. But then Azog had a bent leg under him and he was springing backward.  
  
Thorin sprawled forward, sword cutting deep into the ice as the ice sheet tilted with Azog's departure.  
  
Bilbo only had had a moment to see the ice tip back, Thorin still clinging to its surface and then Azog was coming.  
  
" _Snaag akashuga!_ " The white orc's mouth twitched into a sneer. Despite his weight, he had no trouble crossing the distance between them. He had found thicker ice to support him.  
  
"Bilbo!" One of Fili's knives flew through the air, only to be knocked aside by Azog's blade. He advanced towards Bilbo, ice crunching beneath his feet.  
  
Bilbo retreated, moving sideways, away from Fili and Thorin. He was lighter than Azog. There was a chance he-  
  
Azog brought his blade down hard on the ice.  
  
It cracked wide, a twisting fissure that snaked out to the ice under Bilbo's feet. And it started to widen.  
  
Azog was in the water, ice breaking around him. But he was still standing, the ice barely at the level of his chest.  
  
It wasn't deep enough to drown an orc, he suddenly realised in horror. But it was more than enough for a dwarf.  
  
Or a hobbit.  
  
Azog started wading towards him, icy water spraying up.  
  
Vaguely aware of the others shouting, Bilbo stepped backwards.  
  
Ice cracked, giving way beneath him.   
  
"Bilbo!"  
  
Bilbo was flung forward, arms windmilling. He landed on ice, one hand in icy water. Bilbo instinctively rolled away-   
  
And into the water.  
  
Cold enveloped him, a hard icy fist that squeezed the air from his lungs. Bilbo kicked out, thrashing upwards.  
  
"-ibo!"  
  
Bilbo gasped for breath, the cold air scraping his raw skin. His vision was blurred, water and shock masking his sight. But he still saw the white lip of ice before him.   
  
With a sobbing breath, Bilbo clawed his way towards it, clinging desperately to the freezing surface. Ice shavings curled up as tried to claw himself from the water.   
  
"Hurry Bilbo!"  
  
He could hear the thrashing in the water behind him, horrifyingly close.  
  
Azog.  
  
Terror gave Bilbo extra energy. He lunged up, fingers clawing the ice's surface as he pulled himself from the water.  
  
A large hand grasped his ankle, yanking him back.   
  
"Bil-"  
  
He was under the water again, sound muffled, enclosed in cold.   
  
Bilbo kicked and clawed desperately, until the grip on his ankle was gone.  
  
A large hand landed on his head, forcing him deeper.  
  
Pale bubbles burst past his gaze in a desperate stream heading up towards the surface. Lungs burning, Bilbo desperately tried to follow them, clawing at the hand that held him down.  
  
But his fingers were numb, his limbs growing heavy and weak. His lungs were on fire.  
  
The hand holding Bilbo down pushed hard on his head and Bilbo's mouth opened.   
  
The freezing water burned its way inside.  
  


~x~X~x~

  
  
Bilbo surfaced with a gasp.  
  
Wood. Woollen blankets.  
  
Bilbo burst into terrified tears, arms shaking as he wrapped them around himself. He drew in deep ragged breaths, the air burning his lungs.  
  
But he could breath. He wasn't underwater.  
  
He was alive.  
  
It was a long time before Bilbo could move from the bed.  
  


~x~X~x~

  
  
"There's an army of orcs out there!" Bilbo thrust a finger towards the northeast. "Azog and his army." A shudder ran down his spine at the reminder. Of ice and a large hand. Freezing water. "Gundabad orcs!"  
  
Thranduil stiffened. He pinned Bilbo with an icy stare. "Gundabad. Mithrandir has been talking to you of his fell premonitions."  
  
"Gandalf speaks the truth!" Bilbo refused to be intimidated, hands balled up at his sides. "There is an army marching towards us even as we speak."   
  
"An army that none of my scouts have seen." His eyes narrowed, into pale blue slits. "That nobody has seen." He flicked an elegant hand, summoning the guards standing outside the tent. "We will treat with Oakenshield on the morrow. I suggest you get some rest, Master Baggins."  
  


~x~x~x~

  
  
"You heard Gandalf! An army is coming."   
  
Bard's expression was grim. "Even if what he says is true, what would you have me do? Thranduil’s army is greater than any force I could muster, even if I wished to move against him.” His mouth tightened. “I asked Thorin Oakenshield for aid and he refused. We were starving before the elven king arrived with food."  
  
Bilbo couldn't refute that. If Thorin were in his right mind, Bilbo knew he would have given aid, maybe even shelter. Thorin knew the desperation of being hungry and homeless.   
  
But he hadn't. And Bard had allied himself with the only one who was willing to give his people what they needed to survive.  
  
Even if the elven king had his own motives.  
  
"I know well that Thranduil seeks his own share of the treasure." Bard continued, following his thoughts. "But I must look to the future. An alliance with Mirkwood may save my people." He held Bilbo's gaze. "I would ally with Erebor if the King Under the Mountain had honoured his word."   
  
Bilbo's word.  
  
"We need what was promised to us to rebuild Dale, to survive. As it stands, Erebor is a threat." Bard caught Bilbo's gaze. "Can you tell me that we are safe from Thorin Oakenshield? That he would be content with his mountain, even if he had honoured his word?"  
  
Bilbo remained silent. Once he would have been able to refute Bard's words. But now he had the memory of Thorin ordering Thranduil's death, the Arkenstone's light reflected in his victorious gaze.  
  
"Thorin is not himself. But he will not remain so." Bilbo said quietly.   
  
"But I cannot risk my people on a simple hope." Bard said with frustration.   
  
There would be no convincing Bard. Bilbo was not inclined to try any further. Bard would do right by his people.   
  
Bilbo didn't want his help at the expense of that. The people of Lake-town had lost their home just like his dwarves.  
  
Because _he_ had roused Smaug’s wrath.  
  
"At least look to your people's safety,” Bilbo implored. “Whether you believe an army is coming or not, would it hurt to take precautions? Reinforce the walls. Make secure a building for your people to find safety." Bilbo had heard that Dale's great hall had been a point of refuge. He grasped Bard's arm, holding his gaze. "If the worst happens, then you will be prepared, your people protected."  
  
Bard's expression was troubled. "I will consider your words."   
  
He could say no more. Bilbo nodded, stepping back. He had done all he could here.  
  


~x~X~x~

  
  
The reinforcement of the wall and securing the Great Hall saved lives. But it didn't make much difference to the outcome of the battle.   
  
It was clear that Bilbo would not be able to convince Bard and Thranduil. He was on his own.   
  


~x~X~x~

  
  
Bilbo chose his time carefully. He had learnt that approaching anyone working amidst the gold drew Thorin's suspicion.   
  
Against the Company, rather than Bilbo himself.  
  
Bilbo waited until the change in shift for those searching, waiting on the path towards the kitchen. It didn’t take long for tired dwarven steps to reach his ears. Gloin and Oin. The younger brother steadying the elder's steps.  
  
"Master Oin." Bilbo stepped out from the shadows.  
  
Gloin stopped, eyes wide with surprise.   
  
"Eh?" Oin lifted his head, damaged ear horn rising to his ear. He spotted Bilbo . A look of surprise crossed his face, followed by narrow eyed assessment. "What is it, laddie?"  
  
"Could I speak to you?" Bilbo resisted the urge to shuffle his feet. "About a medical matter?"   
  
Gloin cast him a shrewd look. He clapped his brother on the shoulder. "I'll see if Bombur's got something for us to eat." He gave Bilbo a meaningful look. "Don't take too long."  
  
Bilbo nodded. The whole Company was aware Thorin was suspicious.   
  
Oin nodded to his brother, distracted, gaze fixed on Bilbo in concern.  
  
Bilbo waited until Gloin had walked out of sight. When he spoke, his words were blunt. "I want you to teach me to dress a wound."  
  
Oin's eyebrows bounced. "Laddie, if you're injured I'd be happy-"  
  
"It's not for me."  
  
Oin's brow furrowed, his gaze sharp as it fixed on Bilbo's face. "What sort of wound are you talking about?"   
  
"Large." Bilbo cupped his hands together to outline it, feeling the ghost of Thorin's blood beneath his fingers. "From a blade thrust straight through the chest." He measured out the placement on his own body.  
  
Oin had fallen into a curious stillness as he listened. "You've _seen_ this wound?"   
  
The curious emphasis suddenly reminded Bilbo of Oin's talk of portents, of ravens and Erebor's reclaiming.  
  
Bilbo met his gaze levelly. "I have."  
  
Oin nodded slowly, face becoming grim. "Aye. Come with me, lad." He gathered Bilbo with an arm around his shoulders. "I'll teach you what to do."   
  


~x~X~x~

  
  
Bilbo expanded on the knowledge he had learnt from Oin.   
  
He worked in the healers’ tents after the battle. Staunching wounds that bled heavily and applying bandages to seal wounds from infection. He learnt the signs of fatal wounds and those which could be saved.  
  
And he learnt how to save them.  
  
He watched the dwarven healers, their intricate instruments and ingenious woven bandages at work. He observed the Elven healers with their quick fingers and shinning needles.  
  
Bilbo watched.   
  
And tried to heal them again and again.  
  


~x~X~x~

  
  
Fili had landed awkwardly. Hitting the side of the tower and bouncing off to strike a protruding ledge.  
  
The fall should have killed him. But it didn't.   
  
And now Fili was the only Durin left of Thorin's line.   
  
Bilbo knelt at his side with a wince at the sight of the splintered bone protruding from Fili’s twisted leg.  
  
He wasn’t sure it could be saved.   
  
"Kili," Fili gasped, his hand griping Bilbo's arm with surprising strength.   
  
Bilbo held his gaze, the desperate pained stare that tightened Fili's face. Throat tight, he shook his head.  
  
Fili's face crumpled before becoming a pale mask. "Thorin?"  
  
Bilbo's hands clenched. He flexed them before carefully peeling back Fili's bloody trousers. "Killed by Azog."  
  
Fili's eyes fell shut and his head rolled back. He was silent as Bilbo examined his leg.  
  
And if there were tears on his face, Bilbo said nothing, simply patted his limp hand. He concentrated on doing what he could for Fili's leg until Oin arrived.  
  
Heart heavy and eyes wet.  
  


~x~X~x~

  
  
Bilbo stayed by Fili's side in the healer's tent, watching him sleep.  
  
When he woke up the next morning, he wasn’t surprised to find himself in Dale.   
  


~x~X~x~

  
  
Azog's blade punctured Thorin's armour, sheering muscle and clipping bone. But it had missed the life-spilling arteries.   
  
Bilbo worked at Thorin's clothes, hands quick and sure, having parted the cloth and rent armour a hundred times before.  
  
This was a wound he had seen before. One he could stop from becoming fatal.  
  
Thorin, who had been staring up at him with that fond gaze that never failed to stutter Bilbo's heart, let out a hiss, wincing at the rough treatment.  
  
"You've become bold, Master Baggins." A small smile bent Thorin's blood-flecked lips. He choked on a laugh, coughing, shoulders heaving.  
  
The jagged movement sent a new wave of blood welling out to stain his clothes.  
  
Bilbo pulled a bandage from the bag he had thrown to the ground. Slapped it to the wound on Thorin’s front, pressing down hard. Slid another beneath Thorin's shoulder to cover the exit wound.  
  
"I've had plenty of time of practise attempting to save your life, Thorin." Bilbo replied grimly. And this time he would succeed.  
  
Thorin's breathing had become pained but his eyes were fixed on Bilbo, wide with surprise. Slowly a smile crept across his face, making the pinched lines smooth away. "You never fail to surprise me, Master Baggins. You-"  
  
He broke off with a choked gurgle.  
  
Bilbo stared at the fletched arrow cutting through Thorin's throat. Black with ragged feathers.  
  
Thorin choked, blood spraying from his mouth to bead on his beard, jolting under Bilbo's hands.  
  
A fatal wound and not a kind one.  
  
Bilbo lunged to hold his head in his hands, meeting Thorin's desperate eyes as he attempted to breathe.  
  
The second arrow was a mercy.  
  
~x~X~x~  
  
Black Speech:  
 _Hon lûmpul, kozadayil_ – 'Watch them fall, dwarf filth.'  
 _Snaag akashuga!_ – 'Weak Halfling!'


	7. Chapter VII

Fili retreated into the tunnel, eyes wide, his expression making it clear he knew the precariousness of his situation.  
  
Bilbo wouldn't let him fall to the orcs even now racing to their position.   
  
"Fili." Bilbo pulled off the ring.  
  
Fili turned, a look of shock on his face. "Bilbo-"  
  
Bilbo grasped his arm and pulled him back. "This way." He led Fili down the tunnel he had scouted, bundling him into the small alcove he had found. It was a tight fit but they managed to tuck themselves inside.  
  
Heavy footsteps and clanging metal grew louder, jeering snarls filling the air. Bilbo froze where he was pressed against Fili's side. Not even daring to breathe.  
  
Noise filled the narrow tunnels, the orcs now nearly upon them. For a moment, Bilbo feared the hunting orcs would venture down their narrow passage. But they continued on, steps not even faltering.   
  
Once they had passed, Bilbo squeezed out of their hiding place. "We have to get out." He whispered harshly. "Another army of orcs is approaching from the north."  
  
Fili caught hold of his shoulder, grip painful in his fear. "Kili."  
  
"He's in the lower levels." If he hadn't gotten an idea to take another route. "I'll find him. Get back to Thorin and tell him to retreat to the mountain." It was worth a try.  
  
Fili's hand only tightened. "I won't leave Kili."  
  
Bilbo reached up, pulling Fili's head down until their foreheads touched. "I'll find him and bring him back safely for you." He stared into Fili's eyes, willing him to believe his words. "I swear it."   
  
Fili simply stared at him for a long moment, eyes searching. But then his shoulders slumped, eyes lowering.  
  
Bilbo pulled back, patting Fili's shoulder in comfort. "Now go, before your Uncle does something stupid. Follow this path and you'll find him safely." He had already taken care of the orcs that would have been a threat.  
  
Fili hesitated but gave a short nod, mouth firming into a grim line. With a last worried look, he hurried down the tunnel.  
  
Bilbo watched long enough to be sure he was on the right path before reaching into his pocket for the ring.  
  


~x~X~x~

  
  
Kili was in the lower levels. And somehow he'd managed to find the only patrol of orcs Bilbo had missed.  
  
He was holding his own, but the noise of the fighting would be drawing attention.  
  
They didn't have much time.  
  
Bilbo stabbed an orc in the back, angling Sting up into its kidneys before tearing the blade free. He was already moving as it fell, taking out another orc with a disembowelling slash.  
  
There were only three orcs left. Bilbo darted in to dispatch another, hamstringing it so Kili could take it out with a slash across its throat. As Kili turned, Bilbo took out the last orc behind him with a vicious upward slash.   
  
"Bilbo!" Kili was wide-eyed in astonishment.   
  
Before he could say anything, Bilbo was swept up in a hug.   
  
"What are you doing here?" Kili was patting his shoulders. Checking for injuries, Bilbo realised.  
  
"Coming to get you." Bilbo carefully pulled free. "It's a trap. Azog has reinforcements coming. We need to rejoin the others."  
  
Kili glanced at the scatter of dead orcs, expression hardening. "We need to find Fili-"  
  
"I already did." Bilbo was already moving back to the tunnel where he had come. "I sent him back to tell Thorin." He glanced back at Kili who had come up behind him. "We just need to join them. As quietly as we can."  
  
Kili nodded grimly, sword gripped tightly in his hand.  
  
Bilbo didn't delay any longer. With Kili close behind him, he hurried back down the tunnel, leaving the dead orcs behind them.  
  
The tower was surprisingly quiet, he noticed worriedly. The clash of blades and orc cries surely hadn't gone unnoticed. Not when Azog was poised to spring a trap.   
  
With quickened steps, he turned down the next corridor-  
  
Right into Azog's blade.   
  


~x~X~x~

  
  
Bilbo shot up from his bed, clutching his chest and gasping for air. He pushed off his blanket and staggered away from the bed, pushing open the rotting shutters closed over the window.  
  
Fresh air rushed into the room along with the noise of the gathered armies of Elves and Men. Bilbo braced his hands against the frame, taking in deep shuddering breaths.  
  
He had gotten to Fili in time. And Kili. Azog had been the problem.  
  
Azog.  
  
Bilbo slowly straightened gaze turning towards Ravenhill.  
  
Azog was always the danger he couldn't avoid.  
  
Azog.  
  


~x~X~x~

  
  
An orc captures Bilbo before he can start the climb to Ravenhill.  
  
The night is long and harsh.  
  
Bilbo screams as they cut off his fingers. By the time they reach his toes, he can only manage incoherent gurgles through the blood in his mouth.  
  
When his throat is finally slit, it is a mercy.  
  


~x~x~x~

  
  
Bilbo dies. Hundreds of times.  
  
He loses his fear of it after time.   
  
And the never ending day grinds him down into hopeless weariness.  
  
Dwarves may be made from stone. But Bilbo is made from nothing so strong.  
  


~x~X~x~

  
  
Dwarves were made to endure.  
  
Hobbits were made for the comforts of home.  
  
But Bilbo endures nonetheless.  
  


~x~X~x~

  
  
Thorin hauls him up the wall amid the Company's shouts.  
  
Bilbo doesn't struggle.  
  
Thorin flings him over the edge.  
  


~x~X~x~

  
  
Bilbo had climbed Ravenhill so many times, he knew the fastest route. He arrived just as Fili and Kili were heading towards the tower.   
  
"Stop!" Bilbo pulled off the ring, bent over gasping.  
  
Thorin turned in surprise, eyes widening. "Bilbo." It was almost reverent, the way Thorin said his name. It wasn't surprise on his face now but a burning faith that almost made Bilbo want to run.  
  
Thorin never lost that faith. Not even wounded or dying.  
  
Bilbo drank in the sight of him. Thorin standing strong and tall, resolute and unaffected by the dragon sickness. The dwarf Bilbo had followed for the past year.  
  
For the eternity of horrid days he had lived through since.   
  
He'd been losing hope as the days passed, each worse or changing little no matter what he does. But with Thorin standing in front of him, Bilbo’s will strengthened.   
  
These are his dwarves, his king. And he will save them if he can.   
  
"It's a trap." Bilbo straightened, staggering forward. His legs ached and his lungs heaved for air, but Bilbo knew by now he could push further. "Another army comes from the north." He drew in a deep breath. "We need to leave. Now."  
  
Fili had already drawn his sword, stepping closer to Kili as he took up a defensive stance.  
  
Thorin glanced over at the towers but nodded decisively. "We retreat to the mountain. Quickly."  
  
"But we're so close." That was Dwalin, though he already had his axes in hand.  
  
Bilbo pinned him with an unimpressed stare. "If you want to die horribly," he said tartly, "then stay by all means." How many times had he had to convince them all to leave?  
  
There was silence for a moment, Fili, Kili and Thorin staring at Bilbo in shock. Dwalin fixed him with a flat unimpressed stare.  
  
Bilbo repressed the urge to yell at them and darted forward to grasp Thorin's sleeve. He wasn't wearing armour, _again_. Bilbo's task had just gotten harder. "Hurry! Bolg will be coming to force you towards the tower." Bilbo pulled Thorin along, knowing the others would follow.  
  
Thorin started jogging after him, jolted into motion. He turned towards a narrow crumbling set of stairs leading down past the frozen river, but Bilbo pulled him back towards the main path. "This way!"   
  
It was longer and the more obvious route but the dwarves’ charge with the rams had cleared most of it. The wide path was easy to run along and a better location for a fight. And it had been clear when Bilbo had run its length a few minutes before.  
  
Bilbo was also less likely to stumble and fall off the side of a rocky outcrop. Unlike the first time they had taken Thorin's faster but more treacherous staircase.  
  
If Bolg or Azog happened to ambush them, there were various side paths where they could retreat. Of course that left them vulnerable to-  
  
"And watch out for war bats," Bilbo added sharply as they hit the first flight of stairs. Kili had been carried off by one the last time they had come this way and dashed on the rocks below.  
  
Bilbo's free hand reached down for the pouch at his belt, patting the contents reassuringly. No bats were carrying off _any_ his dwarves this time.  
  
He was still holding onto Thorin, Bilbo realized. He let go, setting a hand on Sting.  
  
"How did you find out about this second army?" Dwalin had passed them on the steps and now took the lead, axes gripped tightly. He cast Bilbo a sidelong look and then turned his attention back to the path.  
  
"Gandalf." The first time he had said 'Legolas, Thranduil's son', it hadn't gone well. 'Elves' hadn't gone down much better.   
  
Thorin gave a small flinch at his side.  
  
"Gandalf?" That was Kili, just behind him on the stairs. "Is he here?" The words were hopeful.  
  
This would all be so much easier if he was. "In Dale." Bilbo quickened his steps at the reminder. "Orcs have breached the walls."   
  
Silence met his words. Bilbo glanced back to see the worried look exchanged between Fili and Kili. Their steps hurried, a sense of urgency overtaking them.  
  
Thorin's silence was of a different quality. He glanced in the direction of Dale, mouth tight. There was guilt in his eyes, a shadow of self-recrimination.  
  
"Gandalf will protect the city," Bilbo met Thorin's glance with a firm look.   
  
Thorin's gaze lightened somewhat and he nodded, focusing on their route once more.   
  
Dwalin grunted in agreement. "One less thing to worry about." His eyes narrowed as he reached a flat stretch of the path.  
  
Bilbo jumped off the last step, running once he hit level ground. There was a pain in his side but Bilbo ignored it and the weight of the pouch that hit his side with each step. There were worse things if they tarried.  
  
After a short sprint they reached another set of stairs. Bilbo did his best to keep pace with the others. Hobbits were not as nimble as dwarves on stone but he'd had a lot of practise. Particularly on these stairs.  
  
The real peril lay ahead, though. At the intersection of paths a few flights of stairs before them. If Bolg or Azog had taken notice of their flight, they would intercept them there.  
  
Dwalin had the same thought. "Thorin." He half turned as he descended the next few steps, the word a warning.  
  
"We break through." Thorin met Bilbo's gaze briefly then turned his head to catch Fili and Kili. "Our goal is the mountain."  
  
Fili and Kili nodded grimly.  
  
Another flight of stairs. Bilbo glanced around at the steep slopes of rock either side of the path. It was the most likely point of ambush. If they could just make it past-  
  
"From the tower!" Dwalin thrust out the axe in his hand towards another path to their right. Further away but drawing closer were a line of orcs leaving the tower.  
  
Where Azog had been waiting for their arrival.  
  
"Run!" Thorin urged Bilbo forward with a hand on his shoulder. "Do not stop!"  
  
Bilbo couldn't take the steps two at a time like Dwalin but he could descend them faster. Bilbo raced down the steps and then sprinted across the flat where two more paths joined the one they followed. He passed Dwalin, who stood guard, waiting for them all to pass through the junction, and started down the next flight.  
  
If they could just make it down to the long stretch that wound down the mountain's side-  
  
A clatter of dwarven boots on stone started up behind him. Fili and Kili. Thorin behind them and Dwalin taking up the rear.  
  
The faint sounds of shouting orcs were starting to reach them. They still had to cross the ice but they would soon been on the path leading to their own.  
  
Bilbo hoped they would have gotten far enough ahead of them by then.  
  
Another flat and the last set of stairs leading to the long path down the side of the mountain. Bilbo glanced right, along the path leading out from under the frozen fall of the river.   
  
No orcs. Not this time.  
  
Not yet.  
  
"This way!" Bilbo called out before Thorin could shout out directions. He pointed to the left, the long trail down the mountain. As far away from the ice as they could get.  
  
Fili shot him a look but followed his directions. They turned and took the first step of the next staircase together. The first of several long flights that led down to the long incline that trailed out below.  
  
Bilbo's legs were like lead, his calves burning. But he ran down the stairs, determined to keep up with Fili and Kili. It was easier running downhill than up. Though he couldn't help but wish Thorin and the others had kept the war rams they had ridden to the summit.  
  
They were partway down the last staircase when the sound of the pursuing orcs sounded out on the path behind them. Bilbo bolted down the last few steps and, reaching level ground at last, put on a burst of speed to overtake the boys.  
  
"Bilbo!" Kili made a grab for him as he ran past but Bilbo twisted out of reach.   
  
There was a turn in the path ahead. And if their last race down the mountain was similar, a way to slow down the orcs.   
  
Bilbo shot around the curve and immediately left the path, climbing the slope. It stood towering upward, a crumbling tower of thick stone.  
  
Bilbo set his shoulder to it.  
  
"Bilbo!" Kili skidded around the turn below. He looked around anxiously, coming to a halt as he located Bilbo. "Bilbo, what are you doing?!"  
  
The obvious. Bilbo bit back a short reply. "Pushing."  
  
Fili appeared on the path. He took one look at what Bilbo was doing and scrambled up the slope, setting his shoulder against the tower beside Bilbo. They pushed.  
  
It wobbled. Slightly.  
  
It had fallen over much more easily the last time he had tried. But that _had_ been after Dwalin had flung an orc into the side of it.  
  
Dwalin and Thorin appeared on the path.  
  
Dwalin charged up the slope, pushing Fili and Bilbo out of the way. "Keep going!"  
  
Thorin pushed Kili down along the path before following in Dwalin's wake. "Go!" He pushed Fili's shoulder, Bilbo already scrambling back down to the path. "We'll catch up!"  
  
"Make it fast!" Bilbo shouted over his shoulder, sliding down the last part of the slope before the path.   
  
Dwalin shot him an incredulous look, and then set his shoulder to the pillar.   
  
Thorin took up a position beside him. "Push!"  
  
The pillar groaned. And started to tilt.  
  
Bilbo ran, aware of Fili reaching the path behind him. Kili was already ahead of them, reaching another flight of stairs, despite his reluctance to leave them behind.  
  
Bilbo forced his heavy legs to run faster. Fili's heavy tread was closing on him and he wasn't about to get left behind by both of them.  
  
They tended to die when that happened.  
  
There was a massive creak. Then a groan. The ground shook as the giant slab of stone fell, breaking apart on the path. Blocking it.   
  
Bilbo glanced back to see Dwalin and Thorin running down to the slope towards the path and then he was staring down the next set of stairs. Moving fast to catch up with Kili who was already halfway down.  
  
"Kili!" Fili overtook him, pounding down the stairs.  
  
There was another long stretch ahead where he would be able to catch up. Kili had slowed down somewhat, Bilbo was relieved to see.  
  
By the time he was on the flat path again, Dwalin and Thorin were clattering down the stairs behind them.  
  
"Good thinking, Bilbo!" Thorin called out.  
  
"Should stop them for a while," Dwalin added as he drew close.   
  
Until they reached the next meeting of paths, Bilbo added silently.   
  
Judging from the grim look on Thorin's face he was thinking along similar lines.  
  
Guttural shouts sounded out behind them. The orcs had found their blockage of the path. But it wouldn't stop them from long.  
  
Thorin's hand briefly settled on the flat of Bilbo's shoulder guiding him on.   
  
Bilbo's legs were tiring but he put on another burst of speed. The distance between them and the boys had decreased.  
  
The path stretched out before them, a long descending slope. But there was another set of stairs joining path ahead. Too far for the orcs behind them to reach in time. But Bolg's army hadn't shown itself yet.  
  
Bilbo could only hope they were late.  
  
They finally drew abreast with Fili and Kili.   
  
"The way behind is blocked." Thorin said as he passed them, taking up the lead. "It should hold them for a while."   
  
"There's the-" Bilbo drew in a breath "-stairs ahead."   
  
"Aye," Dwalin agreed grimly. "It's the perfect choke point."  
  
Nothing else was said but they all started to run a bit faster.   
  
Bilbo was starting to lag, though. This could be the final time, he tried to encourage himself. They could all survive this time.   
  
It was enough to keep him moving.  
  
But when they drew close to the stairs joining the path, their luck started to run out.  
  
There was a loud cry from above.  
  
Bilbo looked up to see a band of orcs spilling down the long staircase.   
  
A hissing, shrieking noise revealed worse. Goblins were already starting to scramble down the slope behind them.  
  
Bolg's army.   
  
It wouldn't take long for them to catch up.  
  
Dwalin stopped running planting his feet wide, eyes narrowed as the surveyed the approaching orcs and goblins. "I'll take care of this. Go on ahead."  
  
The stairs were a natural bottleneck. Defensible even by one dwarf.  
  
Kili hesitated, nearly quivering in place as he glanced up at the descending orcs and goblins. Fili tightened his grip on his sword, looking towards Thorin for orders.   
  
"Go!" Dwalin swung his axes in a vicious looping display, teeth bared in an eager grin. "I'll catch up with you on the battlefield."  
  
Thorin hesitated.  
  
"Go!" Dwalin barked. "Get the lads to safety!"  
  
Thorin shoved Kili forward and gestured for Fili to follow his brother. His hand fell on Bilbo's shoulder as he turned. "On the battlefield!"  
  
Dwalin gave him a savage grin. "Just make sure you leave some orcs for me." With a great shout, he ran forward, twin axes glinting.  
  
Thorin's hand tightened on Bilbo's shoulder. "This way!" He started down the steps away from the junction, leaving Dwalin to defend their escape.  
  
With one last backward look-  
  
 _axes bloody and tattoos split to bone_  
  
-Bilbo ran down the steps with heavy feet.  
  
They hurried down the steps, Thorin grasping Bilbo's arm when he stumbled, pulling him back to balance. Fili and Kili took the lead, grim and silent. The seriousness of their situation clear to all.   
  
They reached level ground. The long descending slope of the path was now before them.  
  
They ran. Dwalin's shouts and the clash of metal sounding out behind them. Growing fainter and then fading altogether.  
  
There was silence. Bilbo's laboured breathing was harsh on the air. Marked contrast with Thorin, Fili and Kili's loud but measured breaths.  
  
Bilbo refused to slow down, though. Their lead was the only advantage they had. Time was of the essence.  
  
The path slowly twisted down around the mountain, the noise of the battle before the gate of Erebor beginning to sound on the edge of audibility. It turned and started downward again, curving back down under the path they’d run.  
  
And what was suddenly revealed stopped them dead.  
  
There were orcs on the path ahead.  
  
Thorin let out a cry, charging ahead. Fili and Kili were only a few steps behind him.  
  
So close. Bilbo's eyes fell shut for a single despairing moment. But then they opened and Bilbo was charging forward with Sting in his hand.  
  
A high pitched shrieking filled the air before Bilbo could reach the fighting.  
  
War bats.  
  
Sheathing Sting, Bilbo ran towards an upthrust spur of rock and scrambled up on top of it. He loosened the pouch at his side and reached for the objects within.  
  
Smooth metal rounds met his fingers. Bilbo clenched one in his hand and drew back his arm.  
  
The missile shot through the air and caught the first bat in the eye.  
  
Blood and worse sprayed into the air, the bat's wings going limp as it fell, dead weight, from the sky.  
  
Bilbo was already taking aim. Releasing another iron shot.   
  
It tore right through a bat's open mouth and out through the back of its head. Then shot through the wing of the bat behind it, sending it in a shrieking spiral down the side of the mountain.  
  
A bat foolish enough to stoop towards the battling dwarves received an iron shot directly to the face. It fell on a battling orc, pushing him off the side of the mountain.  
  
Shrieking the bats retreated, leaving only a foolish few to attempt the fighting dwarves below.  
  
Bilbo set to making it their last.  
  
He had just killed another bat when movement below caught Bilbo's eye. Thorin.  
  
An orc thrust out his sword, aiming for Thorin's exposed side.  
  
Fili lunged forward, blocking the orc with one sword and dispatching another. He tore through the pressing orcs with vicious thrusts and slashes. For a moment it looked like he would push them back through sheer force of will alone.  
  
But there were too many.  
  
Desperate, Bilbo jumped down from his perch. He gutted the first orc he came across with a quick slash and hamstrung another.  
  
Their screams were enough to cover the sounds of his passage. Bilbo burst into a sprint, slicing at any nearby orcs as he passed.  
  
Fili had been pushed back to Thorin's side. The orcs determined to kill the last of Durin's line, the dwarves that had almost escaped their trap.  
  
There were too many even for Fili to hold back. Not when he was defending Thorin's flank at the cost of his own.  
  
An orc darted forward, dark blade slipping past Fili's guard to seek his exposed side.  
  
And Kili suddenly lunged forward, taking the blow that was meant for his brother.  
  
Fili froze in horror. Allowing an orc to thrust its sword through the back of his neck and out through his throat.  
  
"No!" Thorin screamed, throwing the orc on his blade aside. He disembowelled an orc and cut off the arm of another, slashing through the press of orcs, consumed with madness of another sort.  
  
He didn't care about any injuries he might receive. Thorin was focused on reaching Fili and Kili at any cost. But the orcs were pushing him back with sheer weight of numbers.  
  
Bilbo slashed and stabbed any orcs within reach, just as desperate. Now that Kili and Fili had fallen, Thorin was surrounded by orcs.  
  
He killed one of the last orcs nearby and pulled an iron shot from his pouch. An orc about to stab Thorin in the back fell, face a bloody ruin. Another let out a scream as a missile tore through its hand, ripping the sword from its grip.  
  
Bilbo threw as fast as he could, killing and maiming any orc that sought to take advantage of Thorin's reckless fighting. He threw until his arm ached.  
  
Until Thorin himself made a mistake that Bilbo could not save him from.  
  
He fell from sight with a roar of pain, the remaining orcs surging forward even as Thorin lashed out at them.  
  
Several iron shots were flying through the air, Bilbo barely aware of having thrown them. He was running forward, legs heavy and body strangely numb.  
  
Thorin had fallen. The orcs around him.  
  
Kili and Fili-  
  
Bilbo stumbled over the strewn bodies of orcs. Towards where Kili and Fili had fallen.   
  
Kili lay still, the amount of blood beneath him the work of an arterial puncture.  
  
Fili had been dead before he had fallen.  
  
Bilbo staggered on, nearly tripping over an orc's corpse, gaze fixed on the fallen form amidst a pile of orcs.  
  
He kicked one aside, tearing another away with furious strength.  
  
Thorin stared up at him, a sword speared through his ribs and blood painting his lips.  
  
Bilbo fell to his knees, Sting falling from his grip. His hands hovered uselessly over Thorin's chest. But Oin and the elven healers had taught him well. He could tell it was a fatal wound.  
  
Thorin reached towards him, pain-glazed eyes bright. "Kili? Fili?" Thorin grasped his arm urgently, disregarding the blood on his lips.  
  
Bilbo closed his eyes for a moment drawing a breath. He shook his head.  
  
Something died in Thorin's eyes, his blue gaze flickering. "I led them both to their deaths." His hand fell away from Bilbo's arm.  
  
Bilbo caught his hand in his. "No, Thorin." They had died because Bilbo had been unable to save them. "They died fighting for a home." His breath caught. "For one they loved."  
  
Thorin's gaze caught his, a sudden intentness sharpening his gaze. "Bilbo?"  
  
Bilbo held his hand tighter. "You have won your people a home, Thorin. No longer will they wander, no longer will they be without a place to belong." He took a shaking breath. " _That_ is what Fili and Kili fought for."  
  
Thorin let out a breath, as if a great weight was suddenly lifted from him. His mouth relaxed, the lines of his face less harsh.  
  
It was a familiar look.  
  
"I have wronged you, Bilbo Baggins." Thorin's hand moved, fingers curving to clasp around Bilbo's hand. "I seek your forgiveness for my actions-"  
  
Bilbo couldn't hear it again. His heart would shatter. "Your actions were not your own Thorin." He swallowed, blinking hard. "I forgave you long ago."  
  
Thorin mouth curved at the corners. His hand was growing cold in Bilbo's grasp. He was leaving and there was nothing Bilbo could do.  
  
Thorin could sense it too.  
  
"Live long and live well, Bilbo Baggins." Thorin smiled up at him, the last of his warmth in his gaze. "Go back to your books. Your armchair."  
  
Bilbo's fingers tightened on blood stained fur. "I can't go back." His voice broke and cracked, the words desperate and fierce.  
  
If anything the affection in Thorin's gaze grew. "Bilbo."  
  
His name was said with such love that Bilbo nearly burst into tears.  
  
"I'm going to stay here." He gazed at Thorin, vision blurring. "Here with you." Tears spilt from his eyes and down Bilbo's cheeks.  
  
Only to be stopped by large fingers, rough and speckled with blood. Thorin.  
  
His hand fell back and Bilbo clutched at it, holding Thorin's hand in place. It was cold, too cold, against the chill of his cheek.  
  
Thorin smiled at him with a warmth that burned, his eyes wide with amazed joy. "I would welcome you into the mountain at my side. That you would teach me the comforts of home and good cheer." His fingers twitched against Bilbo's cheek, a faint flexing caress. "Would that I had the time to learn it."  
  
The words hit Bilbo like a shock of cold water. He pressed harder on the cloth pressed to Thorin's side.  
  
"You will have time." His fingers splayed, cold with Thorin's cooling blood. "You will."  
  
Large winged shadows passed over them.   
  
Bilbo looked up to see the Eagles flying overhead. "Thorin-"   
  
When he looked down, Thorin's eyes were empty.  
  


~x~X~x~

  
  
Bilbo tore back Thorin's tunic.   
  
The wound revealed was raw and awash with blood but Bilbo didn't hesitate. He pressed the pad of cloth against the wound and covered it with his makeshift bandages. "Don't move. Do you hear me, Thorin?"  
  
Thorin's breath hissed out, fond smile fading slightly.  
  
"You're going to be fine. Oin will be here soon and you'll survive to see your people home."  
  
The eagles cried. And Thorin watched their flight with sightless eyes.  
  


~x~X~x~

  
  
Bilbo sat on the ice, uncaring of the cold that had numbed his feet, wet his clothes. The blood that had stained the snow and froze cloth to skin.  
  
The wind plucked at Thorin's hair, drifting it over Bilbo's fingers as he mindlessly smoothed it back again and again.  
  
Thorin had stopped speaking long ago.  
  
Bilbo spoke of the Shire until his voice was cracked and raw.   
  
He didn't believe half of the words.  
  


~x~X~x~

  
  
There was only so many times Bilbo could watch Thorin Oakenshield die.  
  
Death was preferable.  
  


~x~X~x~

  
  
Fili nearly stabbed Bilbo when he appeared.  
  
"Bilbo!" Fili hissed, eyes wide. "What are you-"  
  
"It's a trap." Bilbo grabbed Fili's arm. Took a grip on Kili and pulled them back along the tunnel. Desperation gave him strength. "Gundabad orcs from the North. Azog is waiting for you."   
  
The boys started moving with him after exchanging a startled glance. Fili pressed close, his voice a harsh low whisper. "Bilbo! How do you-"  
  
Bilbo's ears twitched, picking up vibrations. He pushed Fili into a side tunnel, pulling Kili in after them. They struggled against his hold but froze when they started to hear the sounds of approaching orcs.   
  
Kili pulled his sword from its sheath, even as Fili drew his twin swords.   
  
Bilbo shook his head and pressed a hand to their chests to keep them still against the wall. They could not draw attention now.  
  
Fili was tense against his palm but he stayed where he was, shaking his head at Kili. Kili stilled.  
  
Bilbo waited, barely breathing as the sound of the approaching orcs grew louder. Feet tramping the ground and weapons scraping the walls in their haste.  
  
The orcs ran through the main tunnel. It must have been only seconds but it felt like forever for the orc pack to pass them. Aware that Fili and Kili were practically quivering under his restraining hands, Bilbo did his best to convey confidence.  
  
He had no intention of letting Fili and Kili die within Ravenhill's tower.  
  
Bilbo waited until the orcs had passed before letting Fili and Kili free. He tilted his head toward the small tunnel they had been following before the orcs had arrived.   
  
Fili nodded grimly, both swords held low and gripped tightly in his hands. Kili, his dark eyes flicking to the now-empty corridor and back, gave Bilbo a strained smile.  
  
They hurried down the tunnel, Bilbo leading the way by memory alone. He had been through Ravenhill's warren of corridors and tunnels countless times. But even the knowledge gained from repeated assaults on Ravenhill couldn't account for the placement of orc patrols.  
  
 _That_ was always different.  
  
Fili and Kili followed him silently as Bilbo darted down narrow corridors, paused in small rooms and led them on short crawls through broken walls. Bilbo could feel their eyes on his back, the questions that were no doubt growing, but remained unvoiced. Their trust warmed him even as it started to build his anxiety.  
  
He couldn't afford to fail them.  
  
They were close to the exit at the base of the tower when they ran into a group of orcs. A watch waiting to catch them, unavoidable.  
  
Bilbo immediately ran forward, thrusting Sting into an orc's back, below ribs and up into his kidney.   
  
Fili joined the fight with silent ferocity, taking out an orc with the sweep of one sword and lopping off the hand of another.   
  
Kili was right behind him, landing a killing blow on the wounded orc and engaging another.  
  
Surprise was on their side and the skirmish was over quickly. Half a dozen dead orcs lay on the ground, a scatter of blood and flesh.   
  
"This way." Bilbo waved the brothers on. Stealth was lost now and the entrance to the tower loomed ahead-  
  
Ice met them. A battlefield that had already been stained with fallen bodies.  
  
Bilbo let out a curse. "Thorin should have been on the ridge."  
  
Fili scanned the fallen bodies on the ice. "They're not here."  
  
But it was Kili who spotted them. "Over there!"  
  
Bilbo followed his pointing finger and his heart sank.   
  
There was movement on an outcrop of rock to the north. Orcs clambering over the rocks and war bats were in the air. The army from the north had come.   
  
And Thorin and Dwalin were surrounded.   
  
Worse yet, Azog and Bolg were among those they fought.   
  
Fili started running, Kili not far behind him. Bilbo shifted from foot to foot, debating possible actions, and then followed as fast as he could.   
  
Snow and ice crunched beneath their feet as they ran, their eyes fixed on the battle before them.  
  
The fight had gotten more desperate. Dwalin was a fierce whirlwind of steel and brute strength, trying to take down as many orcs as he could before they could get to Thorin. Thorin fought like a madman, taking risks that sacrificed safety for an opportunity to cut his enemy down.  
  
He was going to get himself killed at this rate.  
  
But it wasn't Thorin who fell.  
  
An orc got lucky, a vicious strike that cut across the back of Dwalin’s leg. It buckled.  
  
"No!" Kili ran faster.   
  
Dwalin sank to his knee with a defiant roar. He cut down the orc that had felled him, taking its legs down from under it.   
  
Thorin whirled, slashing at the orcs that were surging forward to take advantage of Dwalin's injury.   
  
The orcs were pressing harder now. Dwalin was at a disadvantage, fighting from one knee. He was still bringing orcs down, but it was a drawn out bait and slash strategy he had adopted. With his limited reach, he was forced to wait for the orcs to come for him.  
  
And he could no longer cover Thorin's back. Thorin had to do most of the defending, twisting and lunging to cut down the orcs that were trying to get to Dwalin from behind.  
  
They couldn't hold out long, Bilbo knew. It was just a matter of whether Fili and Kili would reach them in time.  
  
But it was not to be.   
  
It was as unexpected as it was sudden. Thorin suddenly faltered, an orc's thin blade stuck in his side.   
  
"Thorin!" Kili ran forward, sword in hand.  
  
Fili was close behind him, running with a silent determination that made Bilbo's heart clench.  
  
More orcs appeared on the outcrop above the ice. More than they could fight off.  
  
Kili and Fili didn't even falter.  
  
Bilbo didn't either. This time, they would die together.   
  


~x~x~X~

  
  
The battle always changed.   
  
Azog would be in the tower sometimes. At others he would be waiting on the path as they retreated.  
  
Bolg's army would arrive at different times and places.  
  
Bilbo managed to kill them from time to time. But that success was always followed by failure.   
  
Sometimes Bilbo managed to save his dwarves, only to have them die in more horrible ways than he had seen before. The horror of it matching the level of his success.  
  
It was almost as if he was being punished. 


	8. Chapter VIII

Bilbo found Thorin on the wall staring down at the lights of Dale. He stepped softly forward, hands cradling two bowls.  
  
The incident with the trolls seemed so long ago. Fili and Kili were grim and silent most days.  
  
And there were threats more dangerous than trolls.  
  
"Thorin."  
  
A shift in Thorin's shoulders was all that marked his suspicion. Thorin slowly turned, his pale blue gaze glittering in the light of the torches.  
  
Bilbo shuffled, shifting his weight from foot to foot. "I brought you something to eat."  
  
Thorin's gaze, which had been fixed on Bilbo's face in an intense stare he'd gotten used to, shifted down to the bowls in Bilbo's hands. He met Bilbo's gaze again. "I am not hungry."  
  
Bilbo would have been surprised if it was that easy.  
  
He squared his shoulders. "You need to keep up your strength." Bilbo picked his way through the fallen blocks of stone that were still scattered on the wall. He picked a long flat slab and sat down, acutely aware of Thorin's eyes on him.  
  
He glanced up, catching that glittering blue gaze. "Please Thorin." There was a note of pleading in his voice.  
  
Thorin stood silent, a war waging behind his eyes.  
  
Bilbo remained silent, knowing from past experience anything he said would only push Thorin back to his obsession with the Arkenstone or the threat that lay beyond the gate.  
  
Finally Thorin took a slow step forward. He approached in the quiet focused way he had while in the throes of gold sickness. A predatory, powerful stride that could all-too-easily erupt into violent anger.  
  
Bilbo held his gaze and lifted up one of the gently-steaming bowls.  
  
Thorin stared down at him for a long moment, looming over Bilbo in his crown and furred coat.  
  
Finally he reached out for the bowl and slowly took it from Bilbo's grasp, large fingers overlapping Bilbo's. His hands very large and very warm. Thorin then turned and sat next to Bilbo on the fallen slab. Close enough that Bilbo could feel Thorin's solid bulk along his side.  
  
Bilbo stared down at his bowl to hide his sudden urge to burst into tears. Instead he picked up his spoon and started to eat, ears pricked to hear the sound of Thorin starting to do the same. It took a moment but eventually there was the scrape of Thorin's spoon against his bowl.  
  
They sat and ate in silence. It reminded Bilbo of nights around the campfire, when Erebor was a source of desperate optimistic hope. And Thorin's strength was tempered with a gentleness he was slowly revealing. Kindness and good humour that was not overshadowed by his abrupt defensive nature. Thorin as he was.  
  
Bilbo would do everything in his power to see that again.  
  
An empty bowl was placed into Bilbo's lap by large hands.  
  
Bilbo looked up to find Thorin watching him, eyes softened by the small smile on the dwarf's lips.  
  
"You spoke wisely, Master Baggins." He stood, reaching out to grasp Bilbo's shoulder, his hand engulfing the joint. His grasp lifted away and his gaze shifted out towards the lights of the army camped at Dale. "We will all need our strength on the morrow." The warmth leeched from his expression, replaced with cold hostility.  
  
Bilbo sat and watched him pace over to the wall, hands clasping the empty bowls on his lap.  
  


~x~X~x~

  
  
Azog and Bolg were the key.  
  
Bilbo had learnt that he could not stop the battle. He could steer it somewhat but it always came down to battle with the two white orcs. The Company could deal with normal foes but confrontations with Azog and Bolg inevitably lead to death.  
  
The answer was simple in the end. Bilbo had to kill them first.  
  


~x~X~x~

  
  
"Bilbo!"  
  
Gandalf's cry echoed out behind him but Bilbo kept running.  
  
The orcs and men on the battlefield were a disorienting meld of dark shadowy forms. But Bilbo had gotten used to seeing the shadowy world of the ring. He had gotten his bearings before he had slipped it onto his finger and now he ran across the plain.  
  
Not to Dale, but to Ravenhill.  
  
Where Azog was waiting.  
  


~x~X~x~

  
  
Azog was in the tower.  
  
He was no longer stood on the jutting lip of stone from where he had overlooked the battle. The white orc had sought out a spot in the shadow of the tower. What had once been a room, broken open to allow a view that looked out onto the frozen river below.  
  
Waiting for Thorin and the others to fall into his trap.  
  
Perched on top of the remnant of a thick broken stone wall above him, Bilbo tightened his grip on Sting. A sudden wave of hatred engulfed him. It was not an emotion Bilbo had felt before, so full of rage and loathing. But for what Azog had done- The many ways he had killed Fili and Kili-  
  
The pleasure he took in making Thorin's death as painful and humiliating as possible-  
  
Bilbo hated him.  
  
And he had no hesitation in trying to kill the white orc. The Ring on his finger, Bilbo jumped from the wall, Sting held firmly in both hands.  
  
He was on target.  
  
Sting slid in smoothly, the small blade finding a gap in Azog's armour and slicing deeply into the orc's neck.  
  
Azog swiped his bladed arm backward even as he fell, words of the dark tongue spilling vicious and biting from his mouth.  
  
Hanging from Azog's back, Bilbo ducked, twisting Sting to tear the wound open wider. But before he could land another blow, Bilbo was pulled away, flung down hard onto unforgiving ice. It knocked the wind out of him.  
  
Azog staggered to his feet, blood pouring down his shoulder. Bleeding heavily but not dead.  
  
Not yet.  
  
His pale eyes scanned the ice before him, mouth twisted into a snarl. " _Fauthlat._ ” His eyes narrowed. “ _Mal kulat?_ "  
  
Bilbo stayed still, barely breathing. If Azog drew closer he would make his move. Azog would not be killing his dwarves this day.  
  
But Azog had stopped searching. He was staring at Bilbo, a terrible smile on his face.  
  
Not him, Bilbo realized. The snow that had been disturbed when Bilbo fell.  
  
" _Mal kul_!" Azog lunged, blade sweeping low to ground.  
  
Bilbo, still crouched in the awkward position he had landed in, was unprepared for the move. He rolled, trying to keep as low to the ground as he could.  
  
But he wasn't fast enough.  
  
A pained noise escaped Bilbo's mouth as Azog's blade caught his side. He landed on his back, gasping for air. Thorin's gift had saved his life but he still had bruised ribs, the wind knocked out of him.  
  
" _Honizg znalab!_ ” Azog advanced, blood running down his side. His blade hand was held before him in readiness as he tracked the marks Bilbo had left in the snow.  
  
Bilbo scrabbled at the ice, trying to claw himself from Azog's path. He rolled, hands and knees digging into snow to propel him forward.  
  
A large hand caught his ankle.  
  
Bilbo found himself hanging upside down, his mithril shirt pooling around his arms.  
  
An image of Fili held high over empty air rose in Bilbo's mind and he felt a jolt of fear through his stomach.  
  
It burst into pain.  
  
Azog's blade pulled free in a horrific rush, painted red with Bilbo's blood.  
  
Bilbo gasped shallowly. Trying to bring his hands up the wound that felt like he was being torn in half. The very effort tearing the wound wider.  
  
“ _Maatharz, matlat_ -"  
  
Bilbo fell to the ground, biting back a scream as his vision whited out. After several breathless moments, he finally blinked his sight clear, his breaths slightly better than desperate pants.  
  
To see Azog lying still only a few feet away, pale eyes open and unseeing.  
  
Dead. Finally.  
  
Bilbo let out a gasp of relief, light-headed with the pain it provoked. He allowed himself a moment and then he firmed his lips and gathered his strength.  
  
This was going to hurt.  
  
Bilbo struggled to his feet, a hand pressed to his stomach, barely even glancing at Azog's corpse. Bolg was still out there. He had to warn his dwarves.  
  


~x~X~x~

  
  
Bilbo staggered up the rise to the outcrop that overlooked the frozen river. The treacherous plain of ice where Thorin had died again and again.  
  
Bilbo lurched away from the edge, towards the remains of what had once been a courtyard.  
  
Here. Here was the place where Thorin would come.  
  
He wavered, light-headed and balance uncertain. Then he started down the shallow steps to level ground.  
  
And tripped.  
  
Bilbo met the ground with a breath-stealing impact. He lay, mouth working as he tried to breathe around the agony that seized his stomach and radiated through his body. Slowly he managed to breathe, to find the shallowest breaths that caused the least pain.  
  
It wasn't so bad now that he was lying down. Bilbo flexed his fingers where they lay on his stomach, wet and glistening, then let them still. He only had to wait.  
  
Bilbo lay staring up at the sky. It was a pale blue, the thin clouds white and pale grey skeins. It was the only sky he had seen in days, months, however long it had been.  
  
It had been so long since he had seen a bright blue sky.  
  
"Bilbo!"  
  
It was Kili's voice. Between one slow blink and the next, Kili himself was there, leaning over him, face pale and drawn.  
  
A hand closed over his wrist lifting his hand from the wound in his stomach. Strangely it didn't hurt so much now.  
  
Fili. It was Fili.  
  
"You're both alive." Bilbo let his eyes fall shut, relief making his body go limp. "I was in time."  
  
"Bilbo." Kili. A light touch on his face. "Bilbo!"  
  
Bilbo's eyes flicked open. Kili was still there. And Fili.  
  
"How did this happen?" Fili's lips were pressed tightly together as he surveyed the wound.  
  
"Azog." Bilbo was vaguely aware that someone else had arrived but it was too hard to turn his head. "He's dead now."  
  
The hand on his stomach pressed down.  
  
It hurt.  
  
Bilbo gasped, entire body lighting with pain, eyes wrenched open. He sobbed in a breath, lungs aching for air but pain flaring with every breath.  
  
Warmth settled on his head, soothed him from his panic.  
  
"Bilbo." Thorin knelt by his side, one large hand resting on his shoulder, the other shakily stroking over his hair.  
  
Thorin.  
  
"Bolg!" Bilbo gasped out. "An army. From the north." He sucked in more air. "You have to go!"  
  
Thorin glanced at Fili.  
  
Bilbo caught the blond dwarf shaking his head at the corner of his sight.  
  
He was dying. There was nothing to be done.  
  
For him.  
  
Bilbo closed his eyes and drew in as deep a breath as he could manage. "Leave me."  
  
Thorin's hand stopped moving in his hair.  
  
"Bilbo." Kili voice was anxious. "We-"  
  
"You need to leave before Bolg's army arrives." Bilbo pried his eyes open. It was harder than he thought it would be.  
  
"We're not leaving you here." It was Fili who spoke. "How could you even think it?"  
  
They couldn't stay. But looking from Fili to Kili he could see that they were planning to do just that.  
  
Bilbo rolled his gaze upwards. "Dwalin, talk some sense into them."  
  
Dwalin gazed down at him from where he stood watch. His gaze was hard as he scanned Bilbo's body, flicked over his stomach wound. He turned to Thorin. "We carry him down. He doesn't weigh much."  
  
What- Even dying and half numb, Bilbo felt a flutter of indignation. He hadn't come all this way, to kill Azog, to warn them, to _save_ them, for his too-loyal dwarves to risk their lives for him when he was already dying.  
  
He opened his mouth to give them as scathing a scolding as he could manage but Thorin cut him off.  
  
"Brace yourself."  
  
Bilbo didn't have the time to ask him why. Thorin's arms worked beneath his shoulders and knees. And then he was _lifting_ -  
  
The world vanished. There was only pain so brilliant it stole his sight and breath.  
  
When Bilbo blinked his eyes open, breaths in shallow jagged rasps, the world was flecked with pale streamers of colour and he was surrounded by worried dwarves.  
  
He suspected he had said something. Or maybe screamed.  
  
Kili's face was pale where it floated nearby. Fili had a hand pressed to his throat, feeling for a pulse.  
  
"I'm alright." Bilbo croaked out, through that was manifestly untrue.  
  
"Rest, Bilbo." Thorin's voice rumbled through his chest, warm and soft. Quiet and uneven. "You've done enough, my friend." His voice broke on the last word.  
  
Friend.  
  
Bilbo dragged his hand up to his chest to cover Thorin's where it gripped his side. He gripped Thorin's hand as hard as he could with his numbing fingers.  
  
"We retreat to the mountain." Thorin ordered the others grimly. "We engage only when we have to."  
  
There were nods. They started down the mountain, Dwalin in the lead, Fili and Kili at Thorin's side.  
  
Bilbo let his eyes sag shut. Azog was dead and his dwarves had been warned about Bolg. They might live.  
  
Even if he did not.  
  


~x~X~x~

  
  
Bilbo woke up slowly. He was in a bed and warm.  
  
His heart leapt in hope.  
  
Bilbo cracked his eyes open-  
  
Only to see wooden beams. The familiar room he had been given at Dale.  
  
Bilbo's heart sank. Either Thorin and the others had fallen in battle, or he had died before they had gotten to safely. With all the battles he had experienced on Ravenhill, Bilbo suspected it had been the former.  
  
Bilbo slowly pulled himself up, hand touching his stomach in a ginger press. There was no pain, no sign of the injury Azog had given him.  
  
It was as if nothing had happened.  
  
Bilbo's lips thinned, pressing together into a tight line. Azog. This time, he would do better.  
  


~x~X~x~

  
  
The iron shot caught Azog in the side of his head, sending him staggering.  
  
Bilbo darted forward from his hiding place, Sting grasped tightly in hand. He ducked Azog's arm and thrust up, Sting sliding into the white orc’s side. Twisting the sword roughly and pulling it free.  
  
Azog had a hand on his wrist before Bilbo could land another blow.  
  
The first had not serious enough to hinder him, Bilbo realized in despair, Sting glancing off Azog's ribs. And he would not be given a second chance.  
  
Azog recognized him. A victorious sneer twisted his lips as he seized Bilbo and dragged him close.  
  
His breath smelt like raw meat. The iron tang of dark orc’s blood was heavy in the air as it slid down the side of the white orc's head.  
  
Bilbo twisted, stashing at Azog's throat with Sting.  
  
Azog easily deflected the small sword with the blade attached to his truncated arm. Sting flew through the air, falling to ground with a dull _clank_.  
  
Azog snarled, lifting his arm so Bilbo was hanging helpless before him.  
  
Azog's blade drew sharply across his throat. Bilbo was gone before his body hit the ground.  
  


~x~X~x~

  
  
Azog wasn't where he was meant to be.  
  
Bilbo scoured the tower with a sense of almost panic, creeping from room to room, hiding to avoid the orcs that filled it.  
  
Thorin would leave the mountain soon. Lead Fili, Kili and Dwalin to Ravenhill.  
  
And Bilbo had to kill Azog before they did.  
  
Bilbo ducked down a corridor, ears quivering as he listened. There was no sound to indicate the presence of orcs that he could hear. Reassured, he slipped down the corridor and into one of the rooms leading off from it.  
  
The room was filled with orcs.  
  
A cry went up as he was spotted.  
  
Bilbo drew Sting. He couldn't outrun them, but he might be able to break free and slip on the ring-  
  
The orcs surged towards him.  
  
Bilbo slashed wildly, retreating towards the door.  
  
Sting was knocked aside, one large hand closing around Bilbo's arm. The orc twisted.  
  
Something in Bilbo’s arm gave a dull snap. Sting fell from his broken grasp, landing with a startlingly loud clang.  
  
He was pulled into the room, into the centre of the gathered orcs.  
  
An orc picked him up with a leer, its fetid breath washing over his face in a disgusting moist cloud. With a sneer it shoved him back.  
  
Bilbo stumbled, falling against another orc.  
  
The orc growled out something that made the other orcs laugh, ugly and dark. Grasping Bilbo's tunic, the orc pulled, ripping off the sleeve to expose the shoulder of the mithril shirt he wore underneath.  
  
" _Rat!_ " One of the orcs leered. “ _Rippta!_ ”  
  
Bilbo found himself thrust to another orc in the circle, hard hands pinching and pulling, tearing the rest of the coat from his body. Exposing the mithril Thorin had gifted him to their greedy gaze.  
  
Bilbo suddenly found himself in a tugging war, where each of the orcs was doing their best to pull the mithril mail from his body. Bilbo tried to stop them but it was to no avail. The mithril shirt was pulled up from his body, trapping his arms around his head. The orcs were pressed close around him, tearing at his exposed torso with clawed hands and twisting the mithril shirt about his head-  
  
Bilbo started struggling, trying to breathe-  
  
A cry went up as the mithril ripped off his head, tearing at his ears.  
  
Bilbo fell to the ground, receiving a few idle kicks from the orcs pressing around him as they fought over the mithril.  
  
Bilbo tucked his arms around his head, blood meeting his fingers, and tried to breathe around the pain his ribs.  
  
The guttural words of the orcs filled his ears: shouts and hissed words. Violence and venom.  
  
A voice barked out and the orcs suddenly stilled.  
  
Unable to push himself up off the floor, Bilbo rolled his head around to regard the source of the disturbance.  
  
A pale orc approached, standing a head above the others. Azog.  
  
Azog strode towards him through the parting orcs. Eyes fixed on Bilbo, a cruel smile splitting his face.  
  


~x~X~x~

  
  
Azog's massive hand held him high from the ground, a pitiful mess of ragged bone and flesh. The move was agony but Bilbo merely hung, unable to even lift a resisting hand.  
  
" _Mirzob akashuga?_ " Azog bellowed.  
  
Thorin stood across the divide, Bilbo knew. Fili, Kili and Dwalin.  
  
Bilbo blinked blood from his eyes. He could see Thorin more clearly now, sword grasped in his hand, crown and robes discarded for more modest travelling garb. He stood near the edge of the cliff, body straining forward. His lips were moving but Bilbo was too far to hear what he was saying.  
  
Azog lifted him higher, swinging him out over the crevasse.  
  
Bilbo let out a choked scream, legs kicking in panicked jerks as bones grated and the wounds in his side tore open.  
  
"Bilbo!" Fili and Kili had surged forward, only to be stopped by Dwalin's outstretched arm.  
  
" _Lûtom. Shiik, akashuga._ " Azog sounded gleeful, his pale eyes glinting with banked bloodlust. His grip tightened on Bilbo's neck, his fetid breath fanning across Bilbo's face.  
  
Bilbo squeezed his eyes shut, knowing what would happen next.  
  
Azog's teeth clamped down on his ear. And tore away.  
  
Bilbo let out a shrill scream, body convulsing with the agony that shot through his head. He shuddered, arms and legs jerking as a hot tide poured down his face and neck. He gasped for air, jagged sobs that tore his throat and the world slowly steadied around him.  
  
"-ibo!"  
  
The word was garbled, muffled, and it took Bilbo a while to locate its source.  
  
_Thorin_.  
  
"Bilbo!" Thorin's bellow echoed out across the divide, fear and rage ringing through his voice.  
  
Azog spat. Something landed with a wet splat on the snow, blood a vivid scarlet spray.  
  
His ear. Bilbo mouthed the words through curiously numb lips, a high ringing filling his remaining ear.  
  
Azog growled in satisfaction, blood spraying from his breath. Bilbo barely blinked as it landed on his bloody cheek.  
  
He kept his gaze on Thorin, standing on the very edge of the out-thrust stone.  
  
Azog growled into his ruined ear. Something low and satisfied, purring with pleasure.  
  
The blade slid into his stomach with enough force to make Bilbo jerk in Azog's grip.  
  
It pulled free with a vicious twist and Bilbo's body convulsed with spasms and twitches.  
  
There was screaming in the air. _Thorin._ Bilbo thought numbly. _Fili and Kili._  
  
Azog opened his hand.  
  
Bilbo fell, body broken even before he hit the icy stone below.  
  


~x~X~x~

  
  
Bilbo bolted upright in his bed, desperate fingers grasping at his ear. His whole ear, slightly chilled but intact.  
  
Bilbo wheezed, suddenly finding it hard to breathe. He sucked in large gasps of air, free hand digging into his discarded blankets.  
  
His chest seized and Bilbo forced himself to breathe, hand clamped tightly around his ear.  
  
His tearing gasps for breath finally slowed. Heartbeats bolting wildly, a thundering thrum.  
  
Cold certainty filled Bilbo. He needed to kill Azog first.  
  
~x~X~x~  
  
Black Speech:  
_Fauthlat._ \- 'You hide.'  
_Mal kulat?_ \- 'Where are you?'  
_Mal kul!_ \- 'There you are!'  
_Honizg znalab!_ \- 'I see your form.'  
_Maatharz matlat-_ \- 'Sweetly, you die-'  
_Rat!_ – 'Loot!'  
_Rippta!_ \- 'Skin him!'  
_Mirzob akashuga?_ \- 'Whose halfling is this?'  
_Lûtom. Shiik, akashuga._ \- 'Beg. Scream, halfling.'


	9. Chapter IX

Bilbo threw the rope over the wall for the second time that night.   
  
He would have to be back by dawn. If he was not on the wall when Bard revealed the Arkenstone was in his possession, Thorin would suspect the Company was to blame.   
  
If he didn't survive…well, it wouldn't matter either way.  
  
Bilbo glanced back at the flickering light, reflecting warm on stone walls. Allowed himself a moment to imagine Thorin was waiting for him by the fire instead of stalking the dais holding his cold stone throne.  
  
He turned back to the wall and started the climb over the top. He didn't have much time.  
  
And Ravenhill would take a long time to climb.  
  


~x~X~x~

  
  
There were tunnels under Ravenhill. Ancient dwarven corridors that gave way to larger, rough-hewn tunnels carved out by were-worms. _This_ was how Azog had set up his command centre on Ravenhill without anyone noticing.  
  
It was also, Bilbo suspected, the same route that would later be used by Bolg. If he could cut it off, then at least one of the white orcs would no longer be a concern.   
  
Or so he hoped.  
  
Bilbo wasn't quite sure how he would be able to block the tunnel. Bofur, though, would probably be able to tell him.  
  
But until then, Bilbo reflected grimly as he slipped quietly down an abandoned corridor, he had to take care of Azog.  
  
Bilbo snuck down the corridor, keeping to the shallows along the walls. The ring was on his finger, making the world a rough patchwork of light and shadow.  
  
Guttural voices sounded out in the tunnel ahead.   
  
Bilbo desperately scanned his surroundings. Invisible he may be, but he didn’t want to risk the chance of brushing up against an orc.   
  
There was small niche nearby, a fault in the cavern walls. It wasn't large enough to hide a dwarf but a _hobbit_ might be able to fit inside.  
  
The sound of the approaching orcs growing louder, Bilbo darted over, sucking in his stomach as he wormed into the thin crevasse. He wouldn't have fit a year ago but the journey from the Shire had stripped him of much of his soft padding. Bilbo held his breath, Sting held tightly in hand as the voices grew louder.  
  
Two orcs appeared, swords in hand, scanning the tunnel as they walked. Their eyes slid over Bilbo where he was tucked into the wall without registering his presence.  
  
They took up station either side of the tunnel leading up into Ravenhill's towers.  
  
" _Honlatu!_ " It was _Bolg_ who snapped the command as he approached in the rough-hewn tunnel, half a dozen orc guards at his back.  
  
Bolg. Bilbo held his breath as the white orc strode past, eyes briefly falling on the crevasse in which Bilbo hid, before walking on.  
  
Heading up to the tower to meet with his father, probably. Bilbo had missed him somehow. And Bolg was _early_.  
  
He hated to think what that meant for the battle ahead.   
  
Bilbo watched until Bolg and the last of his guards had passed, their heavy footsteps fading into silence. When he was sure they had gone, he slipped out of his hiding place, keeping an eye on the guards who still stood at their post.  
  
They didn't even blink.   
  
He wouldn't be able to kill Bolg now, not if he wanted to kill Azog as well. Which meant he had to find a place to ambush the white orc, preferably out of sight and away from his guards.   
  
Bilbo's eyes slid down towards the end of the tunnel where Bolg had emerged. First, though, he would do a little exploring.   
  


~x~X~x~

  
  
Bilbo crept around the bend in the tunnel, keeping close to the rough-hewn wall. Guttural words, snarls and high-pitched squeals met his ears.   
  
But what he saw was worse.  
  
An army of orcs were encamped in the massive tunnel. Hundreds of small fires flickered in twisted braziers, around which orcs, goblins and wargs gathered. In the distance, Bilbo could hear the reverberating moans of trolls. And the constant grinding feeding of the were-worms.  
  
They were waiting. When Azog called the signal for battle, Bolg would prod the worms into motion and the entire horrid army would pour out onto the battlefield.  
  
Unless Bilbo could stop them.  
  
Bilbo edged into the cavern, warily eyeing the closest resting wargs. Their heads were resting on their paws, eyes shut. But even as Bilbo watched, the shadowy form of the wargs' spirits - overlaying their physical forms - lifted their heads and turned to regard him with burning eyes, their mouths open in silent snarls.  
  
Bilbo shrank back against the wall, horror filling him. That had never happened before.  
  
Physical ears were shifting now, heads lifting from paws until ghostly red eyes overlaid the physical ones.  
  
It was time to leave.  
  
Bilbo slowly edged backward, hands spread at his sides to avoid brushing against anything.  
  
One of the wargs rose to its feet, a low growl spilling from its mouth. Its physical eyes couldn't see Bilbo but those red eyes in the invisible realm of the ring were fixed on him.  
  
Another warg stood.  
  
The orcs were taking notice now, hands on weapons. Standing and following the wargs' gaze, trying to see the threat their beasts had sensed.  
  
Bilbo turned and ran.   
  


~x~X~x~

  
  
It had become a game of cat and mouse. One where the odds were highly in favour of the cat.  
  
Bilbo crouched, barely breathing, under an overhang of rock. One bloodied hand clasped to his mouth to muffle any sounds.  
  
He'd tried to wipe it clean in the snow but the effort had been clumsy with only one uninjured hand.   
  
He'd managed to kill Bolg but not unscathed. And not without notice.  
  
It had been pure chance that Bilbo had fled into the tower only to come across the opportunity he had been searching for.  
  
Bolg alone, separated from his guards.  
  
Despite the alarm he had started - the same alarm that had called Bolg's guard back to the tunnels - Bilbo had been unable to ignore his good fortune.   
  
Bolg had turned at the last minute. Too late for Bilbo to miss but fast enough for Bolg to catch Bilbo with his blade.  
  
Bilbo had fled, knowing that in the uproar, Bolg's corpse would be discovered before long.   
  
Azog now had orcs and wargs scouring the hill. Seeking footprints and a trail of blood.  
  
Bilbo, unfortunately, had left a trail of both.  
  
His battle with Bolg had been brief but bloody. Despite his battles on the journey to Erebor, and the hellish repetition of the Battle of the Five Armies, Bilbo was not a warrior. It had taken several tries in the past to kill Bolg. And his recent success had been the result of luck more than strategy.   
  
Bilbo knew he didn’t stand a chance against Azog and an entire army of orcs. His only choice now was to hide and hope he would not be found.  
  
The chances of that were rapidly sinking.   
  
A low growl sounded out. Dark and vicious.  
  
Bilbo clutched Sting, the blade held awkwardly, point out, in his one good hand.  
  
A large paw came into view. And then there was only a pair of large burning eyes and the warg's vicious snapping teeth.  
  


~x~X~x~

  
  
The next night Bilbo climbed the gate and stayed in the mountain until dawn.   
  


~x~X~x~

  
  
Bilbo studied the pile of stones before him. "So it would be possible to bring down a rockslide on an army?"  
  
Bofur's eyebrows rose. "Possible? Of course. But it all depends on location and the stone." He gave Bilbo a worried look. "You shouldn't be getting ideas about those elves, though. They won't be placed properly for a 'slide."   
  
Bilbo gave Bofur a look. "I'm not going to start a landslide to take out the elven army."  
  
"It would be a good idea if we could manage it-" Bofur trailed off at Bilbo's look. "Right. But we aren't goin' to do that."  
  
Bilbo suppressed a sigh. "What about a tunnel? How would you collapse one quickly?"  
  
Bofur gave him a long look. "The only tunnels around here are dwarven."  
  
If only that were true.  
  
"Bilbo." Bofur leaned forward, his expression earnest. "You don't have to worry 'bout those tree-shaggers. Hastily built the gate may be but it will hold."   
  
"I'm not worried about elves breaking into the mountain. Just looking for-" Bilbo paused, searching for words. "Options." He met Bofur's gaze. "I fear we might need them."  
  
Bofur's mouth turned down, mirroring the curve of his hat, the brightness of his eyes dimming. "Options." His eyes flicked towards the door leading down the throne room and then back to Bilbo. He gave Bilbo a weak smile. "Right. Tunnel closure. First you need to-"   
  
Bilbo listened, occasionally asking questions. Hoping he’d finally found an answer to Azog’s army.   
  


~x~X~x~

  
  
The corridor ended abruptly, a pile of collapsed stone. No rough-hewn cavern cut through it.  
  
Disbelieving, Bilbo ran his hands along it. The rock was firm, wedged tight and undisturbed for years.   
  
Azog hadn't arrived yet.  
  
Bilbo's hands fell. He slumped to the floor, setting his back against the wall.  
  
There was nothing left to do but wait.   
  


~x~X~x~

  
  
The sky was starting to lighten. Bilbo grasped the rope hanging down from the ramparts atop the gate and started to pull himself up.  
  
Azog still hadn't arrived before he had left Ravenhill. Though Bilbo had begun to hear a distant grinding, a vibration in the stone at his back.   
  
Too late for him to do anything about it.  
  
Bilbo suspected it would be the same the next time he tried to turn events from their course. The repetition of events rarely fell in his favour.  
  


~x~X~x~

  
  
Bolg ran towards him, about to elbow Bilbo as he passed.   
  
Bilbo ducked. Thrust Sting with all his strength into the gap in Bolg's armour. He pulled the sword free with a twist to open the wound, even as he swung around to come up behind the orc.  
  
He slashed at Bolg's leg as he rose behind him, slicing through the back of his knee and thigh.  
  
Bolg let out a snarl, falling to one knee, lashing out with his sword.  
  
Bilbo skidded back, a thin line of fire cutting across his face.   
  
Even mortally wounded, Bolg was not going to be defeated so easily. He twisted, lunging forward to catch Bilbo by surprise.   
  
Bilbo fell. Landing on snow that rapidly turned red.  
  
He only had enough time to hope that Bolg's death would be enough of a change to save his dwarves and then he was gone.   
  


~x~X~x~

  
  
Thorin was dying in the snow. But not in quiet resignation. He fought against it, clawing at life with the last desperate energy of his weakening body. Leaving a trail of blood as he furiously tried to drag himself across the snow to Bilbo.  
  
There was a crunch of snow. A dark shadow flung across Bilbo's body, deepening the chill.  
  
"Bilbo!"   
  
Bilbo met Thorin's desperate gaze. They would not survive this. The knowledge was clear in the blood running down Thorin's face, spilling from his mouth. The anguish paling his face.   
  
" _Hon mata, Rani Khozdil!_ " Azog's words were ugly with satisfaction.   
  
Bilbo closed his eyes against the sight of Azog's blade rising above his neck.   
  
At least he wouldn't have to watch Thorin die this time.  
  


~x~X~x~

  
  
"Bilbo." Thorin had melted out of the shadows, menacing and still.  
  
Alive.   
  
Bilbo pressed the back of his hand to his mouth tighter, shoulders shaking as he tried to muffle his sobs.  
  
He couldn't do this anymore. He couldn't.  
  
A large hand rested lightly on his head. Hesitantly started to stroke through his hair as Bilbo started crying harder.  
  
"It will be over soon." Thorin's voice was hard and soft at the same time, unyielding yet touched with gentleness.  
  
Bilbo’s breath hitched.  
  
"Erebor will stand strong once more." Thorin continued, voice quiet but as forceful as a vow. "We will no longer be forced to beg and scrape, to eke out our existence, scorned by men and elves." The last was practically spat out.   
  
Thorin’s hand continued to gently stroke through Bilbo’s hair, gentle counterpoint to Thorin’s words. Bilbo’s shoulders shook under his touch, crying harder.  
  
Thorin’s voice softened. "You have made this possible, Master Baggins." His voice hardened. "And all will know it when we are victorious tomorrow."  
  
Bilbo let his tears fall, Thorin's hand gentle in his hair.   
  


~x~X~x~

  
  
Bilbo found Fili standing on one of the walkways, looking down at Thorin as he searched amidst the gold. His face was grim, set. But Bilbo could see the fear in his eyes. The distance that he pulled around him as he regarded Thorin.  
  
Bilbo wondered if Thorin had watched Thror in the same way. Knowing the sickness that was consuming the other dwarf. Feeling hopeless and fearful that the same sickness would one day snare him as well.  
  
Bilbo suddenly couldn't stand it.  
  
"He'll break free of it." He spoke softly but the words still seemed too loud.  
  
Fili turned, a look of grim horror still in his gaze. "Like his grandfather did."  
  
Which was not at all.  
  
Bilbo's gaze fell on Thorin. Picking up handfuls of gold and letting them pour through his fingers. Sifting among gems and goblets. A satisfied glint in his eye.  
  
"Thorin is not his grandfather." Bilbo turned back to Fili. "He set out on this quest to regain your home, not gold and gems. And unlike Thror, Thorin has learnt that home is worth more than coin. He may be held in sway by it now, but he will not remain so. Thorin is stronger than that." He reached out and touched Fili's arm. "And so are you."  
  
Fili looked at him with wide eyes, mouth slightly open. He swallowed and looked down at Thorin. "You really believe that."  
  
Bilbo's smile was crooked. "I know it." He stared down at Thorin, feeling Fili's gaze on his face. "It will take time but he will break free. Don't give up hope."   
  
The words rang in his mind with renewed determination. _Don't give up._   
  


~x~X~x~

  
  
"What are you doing?"  
  
Bilbo didn't jump. He had gotten used to Thorin gliding silently out of the shadows. He met Thorin's suspicious gaze with a small smile. "Thinking." The answer didn't seem to make much of an impact. "About Erebor," he expanded. "What it must have been like."   
  
Thorin glanced at the halls around them, a slow, almost wary study. "It was once the jewel in the crown of the seven Dwarven Kingdoms." A disturbing glitter was in his eyes as he turned back to Bilbo. "And so it shall be again."  
  
There had been a moment. A flicker of memory on his face. The gold sickness was not all-encompassing, Bilbo had learnt. It was like Thorin was drowning, breaching the surface every so often before being pulled under once more.  
  
The aim was to break free of it entirely; Bilbo needed to pull Thorin to the surface and keep him there.  
  
"Can you tell me about it?" Bilbo gave Thorin a small encouraging smile. "What was Erebor like when you lived here?" When it was filled with voices and laughter, not broken stone and cold gold.   
  
Thorin gave him a surprised, almost uncertain look. But he didn’t turn away. “Glorious.” He finally answered. “Filled with light.”  
  
Bilbo glanced at the cold stone around them. He could almost see it. The corridors come to life with dwarves bustling about to carry out their duties, their voices echoing with cheer and good humour. The great forges brought to life as dwarves created great works. The feasts and merriment.   
  
Thorin would make a home for his people. A great kingdom.  
  
Bilbo gazed up at Thorin, his sad smile softened with fondness. He would make a great king. All the more for the hardships he had endured, the strength with which he fought off his sickness.  
  
That never changed. Thorin always broke free of it after the battle was joined.  
  
“You will make it so again.” He slowly approached Thorin, each step clear and unthreatening. “I have no doubt.”  
  
Thorin stared at Bilbo as if he wasn’t sure what to make of his words. His expression frozen, though his eyes- his eyes were vulnerable, almost disbelieving.  
  
Bilbo smiled. “You have always been a great king, Thorin Oakenshield.” He stepped forward, head tilting back to hold Thorin’s gaze. “My king.”  
  
Thorin’s lips parted, his eyes wide with shock.   
  
"No matter what I have done, my actions were made with loyalty, honour and a willing heart." Bilbo reached up, hands slowly entwining with Thorin's cascade of dark silvered hair. Small fingers twining through the strands to pull him close.  
  
Thorin, eyes wide in surprise, allowed it, making no move to pull away.  
  
Bilbo pressed his forehead to Thorin's, eyes fixed on Durin blue. "I will save you if I can."   
  
"Bilbo." Thorin's arms had fallen so now his hands rested on Bilbo's shoulders.  
  
Bilbo stared at him, heart beating faster as he saw the softened, bewildered expression on Thorin's face. It was fast shifting into a concerned frown but for now, the gold sickness had receded. "Bilbo-"  
  
It was one of the few times Thorin had used his name. Bilbo let his eyes flutter shut for a moment, drawing strength from it. Beneath the madness, Thorin's regard for him was still there.  
  
Bilbo's hands clutched at the thick fur, so different from the thinner pale ruff that Thorin had always worn. The fur that would end up bloodied and cold.   
  
"When you join battle-" His voice frayed and Bilbo cleared his throat. "Wear armour like that you wore to begin this quest." Thorin would not touch any armour from the treasury for fear of succumbing to the gold sickness again. But the armour he chose would keep him safe if Bilbo could help it.  
  
Thorin's grip had tightened on his arms as he spoke; he was frowning down at Bilbo now. "Bilbo." It was a deep rumble, almost a growl. But his eyes were still clear.  
  
Bilbo knew it wouldn't last long.  
  
"I do not want to lose you, Thorin." And the words had never been more truly spoken. Fiercely, with all the conviction he had lacked on their first journey. Yet Bilbo had lost Thorin Oakenshield too many times to count.  
  
He might lose him today. He might forever be stuck, fated forever to be lost to grief and despair as he lost everything.  
  
But Bilbo would not lose this chance; he would not leave things unsaid between them.  
  
He wouldn't again. Not even if Thorin never returned his regard.  
  
Surprise had silenced Thorin. He was staring at Bilbo with that stunned fond open gaze Bilbo had seen before. All burdens shed in the warmth of his affection, making him look like a younger dwarf.   
  
One who had decades of life before him.   
  
Bilbo surged forward, rising up on his toes to press his lips against Thorin's.  
  
It wasn't much of a kiss. Bilbo's dry chapped lips on Thorin's shock-slack mouth.  
  
Bilbo pulled away, slipping out of Thorin's slack grip and into shadow.  
  
Not willing to see what response his actions would bring.   
  
"Keep Fili and Kili close." He called out as he hurried away, ring slipping too easily on his finger. He felt ill and full of dread. All too close to resignation.  
  
Bilbo fought the feeling off.   
  
"Azog still hunts you and wants you dead." It was as much warning as he could give. The balance between telling all and something Thorin would take seriously.   
  
"Bilbo!" It was a shout. There was a heavy clatter and the sound of cursing.  
  
Bilbo moved faster. Unable to watch Thorin descend into gold sickness once more. Focusing on what he could change rather than what he could not.  
  
He had to sneak past an army of Elves and Men to reach Ravenhill.  
  
He had a white orc to take care of.   
  


~x~X~x~

  
  
Azog's blade swept through the room, clanging off the stone wall.   
  
Bilbo ducked, scrambling sideways out of range. He darted forward, slashing at Azog's leg.  
  
He scored a glancing blow, but the strike revealed his location.   
  
Azog swung around, blade arcing through the air.  
  
Bilbo, expecting the move, went low and lunged upward.  
  
This time Sting sank deep, piercing through skin and flesh. Bilbo thrust Sting deeper, just to be sure.  
  
Azog let out a deep snarl. He lashed out with an arm, catching Bilbo in the side.  
  
Bilbo hit the wall hard, head connecting with a loud _crack_.  
  
His last sight was of Azog staggering backwards, Sting imbedded deep in his side.  
  


~x~X~x~

  
  
Bilbo's eyes cracked open. For a long moment, he simply stared up at the wooden beams.  
  
Next time, he would do better.   
  
~x~X~x~  
  
Black Speech:  
 _Honlatu!_ \- 'You watch!'  
 _Hon mata, Rani Khozdil!_ \- 'Watch him die, Dwarf King!'


	10. Chapter X

" _Ziimarp!_ " Bolg spat out the word, dark blood spraying as he fell to the ground.

Bilbo stood over him, blood dripping steadily from Sting's blade. He waited until Bolg had fallen still, no longer breathing and his blood pooling on the ground. Only then did he step back, shoulders slumping.

He pressed a hand to his side, grimacing at the dull pain of bruised ribs. The mithril shirt Thorin had given him had saved his life. 

But it hadn't been enough to stop injury altogether.

Bilbo glanced down at the blood running down his leg. He staggered away from Bolg's corpse, falling more than sitting on a fallen chunk of wall.

The cut was deep, skin hanging loose and blood welling up to quickly slide down to the curls on his foot. It had missed the artery, wouldn't be fatal if he could get it tended to.

Flicking Bolg's blood from his blade, Bilbo used Sting to cut a strip from his coat, a makeshift bandage. Resting Sting on his lap, he wrapped it around the wound firmly. Cutting another strip when the red stain widened, seeping through.

Bilbo kept adding layers until the flow slowed. Blood seeped through the bandage. A slowing spread that indicated a chance of recovery. If he lasted until Azog was dead, Bilbo would be satisfied.

If he could save Thorin and the others, it would be worth another death.

~x~X~x~

“Fili. Take your brother.” Thorin stood, a blurred figure close to three others. “Scout out the tower-”

"That's not a good idea." Bilbo pulled off the ring and stepped into sight.

Thorin took a step towards him, expression open with surprise. "Bilbo."

"Bilbo!" Kili was quicker, dashing over to grasp his shoulder. Fili wasn't far behind him. "What are you doing here?"

Bilbo smiled up at him, feeling the movement pull the cut on his scalp, before fixing his attention on Thorin.

He was closer now and the surprise on his face had given way to concern as he took in Bilbo's appearance.

He still had some of Bolg's blood on him and that of his guards, Bilbo realised. He ignored Fili's pensive glance and the way Dwalin's hands tightened on his axes. "There's another army. An army of orcs from Gundabad. They come from the north." 

Even if he had delayed them with his last-minute rock fall. 

Thorin grasped the situation quickly, as he always did. "We retreat. Live to fight another day." He glanced up at the misted crown of Ravenhill where Azog waited and steered Kili around with a hand to his shoulder.

Bilbo followed after, falling in with Fili. Sting held in one hand.

Fili's eyes flicked from Sting's darkened blade to the wound on Bilbo's face. "Uncle didn't think you'd come back."

Bilbo glanced at Thorin, whose steps had hitched slightly at Fili's words. He gave Fili a grim smile. "I've grown fond of you all." He glanced at Thorin again, unable to stop himself. It had been a while since he had seen Thorin _alive_ for such a span of time. "I suspected you'd been in trouble without me to get you out of it."

"We're glad you came back." Kili added. 

"Aye, and grateful for it, lad." Dwalin agreed, somewhat grimly. 

Thorin had stopped ahead of them. He now drew his sword. “Orcs!”

Bilbo tightened his grip on Sting as he caught sight of the orcs approaching them from the ruins. There were at least twenty.

Dwalin ran forward, one orc folding around one of his axes, the other cutting off a second orc’s arm. Thorin wasn’t far behind. Fili and Kili followed after him, Bilbo at their heels. He wasn’t going to let any of them die if he could help it.

After several minutes of fighting, Bilbo found himself standing by Thorin’s side. Dead orcs littered the ground around them.

All his dwarves were standing, none of them even injured. Bilbo could hardly believe it.

Eru save them, they might make it this time.

~x~X~x~

They made it off Ravenhill. Bilbo stumbled along the level path at the watchtower's foothill with shock. They had made it.

He could hardly believe it. They had never gotten this far before.

"Keep up." Dwalin clapped one large hand on Bilbo's shoulder encouragingly.

Kili slowed down a little from his steady trot, falling back to Bilbo's side. "Stay near us when we get to the field." His voice was terse but quiet. He exchanged a look with Fili, who nodded. 

"We'll watch Thorin's back." Fili cast a glance ahead at Thorin where he jogged on before them.

They were trying to protect him. After all times he had been trying to save _them_ , had already died. Bilbo choked back a hysterical laugh. He nodded.

The battlefield lay below them, a chaotic clash of dwarves, orcs and elves studded with wargs and trolls. To Bilbo's eyes, it was a mess with no clear victory for either side.

Thorin, however, saw something else.

"We join with Dain!" He thrust out a finger towards the fighting dwarves. They were on the last stretch of the path, approaching close to the battle. The sound of it filled the air. "Add our strength to that of our kin!" 

Bilbo tightened his hold on Sting, nervous and tired. And in unchartered territory once more.

"Keep close, Bilbo." Thorin shouted over his shoulder. And then they were charging into battle, Dwalin and Thorin crashing into the first line of orcs.

Bilbo stayed close to Fili and Kili, striking out at the orcs that pressed them. Using his size and speed to advantage. If there was one thing that his hundreds of battles had given him, it was a harsh instruction of how fight in order to keep his dwarven charges alive.

In the absence of Azog and Bolg, the dwarves were unstoppable. Dwalin and Thorin tore through the waves of orcs with violent ease. Fili and Kili were almost as effective, fighting like their arms were extensions of each other.

Hope burned with a brightness that was nearly painful. Bilbo had saved his dwarves from Azog and Bolg. And no ordinary orc would be able to kill them.

A spear flew through the air. It caught Bilbo in the chest, flinging him into the ground. Fili and Kili's cries in the air. 

It wasn't enough to puncture his mithril shirt but the damage was done. Lying on the ground, he was easy pickings for the orc that stomped on his head.

~x~X~x~

Bilbo woke up in Dale, body jerking upright with his last memory.

Which was now, simply that.

"Curse it all!" Bilbo fell back on the bed thumping into the mattress.

He'd been so close.

~x~X~x~

Bilbo yanked off the ring.

"Bilbo!" Thorin took a step towards him, face lighting in shocked joy.

"Where are Fili and Kili?" They were not with them, Bilbo saw with a sinking heart. The orcs he'd had to fight through had slowed him down too much.

"Gone to scout the tower. They just left." Dwalin was eyeing the blood on his coat, Sting's unsheathed blade. 

He could get them back in time if he left now. Or at least save them from Azog and Bolg.

"There's a second army coming from the north." Bilbo cast a wary glance at the tower, suspiciously empty. "Under Bolg's command." 

Dwalin's hands tightened on his axes, expression darkening.

Thorin glanced at the tower, realisation stealing over his face. "Fili and Kili." His face had paled.

"I'll get them back." Bilbo cut him off when Thorin made to speak. "I'm less likely to be seen and spring Azog's trap."

"Bilbo-" 

Bilbo caught Thorin's hand and reached into his coat. He folded Thorin's fingers around the acorn, holding Thorin’s hand in his.

"I would plant this here with you." Where an oak would grow mighty and strong, a living remembrance of their struggle for a home. "If it would be allowed to pass. Hold onto it for me."

It was not the first time he had said it. Nor would it be the last. But Bilbo was not going to leave it unsaid when he had the chance. 

"Keep out of sight. And away from the ice!" He fixed his eyes on Thorin, gaping at him, eyes wide, and turned to Dwalin. "We'll need all our blades if we're going to battle out of Azog's trap." 

He left Thorin staring after him in shock, Dwalin calling out his name.

~x~X~x~

Bilbo slipped on the ring as soon as he was out of sight. He ran down the side of the ruins and across the wide expanse of ice to the tower.

He moved as quickly as he could, focused on the entrance to the tower. That would be where Fili and Kili would have gone. He just had to hope they hadn't made their way too far into the tower.

After several minutes of running over frozen ice, Bilbo reached the base of the tower. There were footprints in the snow. Large dwarven boot prints. Undisturbed.

Somewhat relieved, Bilbo slipped into the tower, blinking to help his eyes adjust to the dark. His large feet were silent on the stone floor and he strained his hearing, listening for any sounds that would reveal the presence of his dwarves.

It took him several moments but finally he heard something. A soft scuff of metal on stone. 

Bilbo hurried to the source of the noise. After climbing a flight of stairs and following a twisting tunnel, he found himself in an open room. Fili and Kili were warily surveying it, swords in hand.

Bilbo pulled off the ring. "Fili!" It was a loud whisper.

Fili's head snapped around, his eyes widening.

"Bilbo!" Kili looked equally shocked.

"Thorin sent me." It wasn't strictly true but the fastest way to convince them. He padded into the room. "It's a trap. Another army is coming from the north. We have to rejoin the others."

Fili was regarding him with a frown. Grim but decisive. He exchanged a look with Kili and then turned back to Bilbo. "Where are they?"

Bilbo's shoulders slumped with relief. "This way." He turned and headed back down the tunnel he'd come.

They were about to descend the stairs when Bilbo suddenly froze. He glanced back at Fili and Kili, raising a hand. 

Bilbo wrinkled his nose, ears twitching. There had been something-

" _Khozdayil._ "

Bilbo turned. Bolg stood in the mouth of the tunnel behind them, half a dozen orc guards behind him.

" _Azultul!_ " 

The orcs streamed forward at Bolg's command.

Bilbo, his gaze fixed on the white orc before him, ran forward.

He ignored Kili's cry behind him, ducking an orc's weapon, slashing at exposed skin where the opportunity arose. But Bolg was his focus.

The white orc regarded him with a sort of distant contempt. But that changed after Bilbo made his way through his orc guard unscathed.

Bilbo had no intention of letting Bolg get to Fili or Kili. 

Eyes narrow, Bolg strode forward, sword held low. 

Bilbo darted sideways, throwing the iron shot he had palmed.

Bolg managed to deflect the missile with his sword. It skimmed off the blade, hitting his shoulder instead of his head. And then he was closing the gap with several large strides, sword rising.

"Bilbo!" Kili thrust back the blade of the orc he was facing and parried the blow of another.

Bilbo ducked, running to the side to land a glancing blow across Bolg's ribs.

The white orc turned with startling speed. Striking out with a lightning-quick slash.

Bolg's speed was still surprising even after fighting him for so long. Bilbo barely managed to get Sting up to deflect the blow, forcing the sword aside. It clipped Bilbo's shoulder, burning a line across the edge of his jaw and clipping his ear.

Bilbo flinched away, Sting held up defensively. He retreated as Bolg advanced, his flat eyes fixed on Bilbo with a hateful stare.

Only to be knocked aside as Kili came flying in to throw Bolg back.

Steel clashed as Kili and Bolg circled each other. 

Bilbo didn't hesitate, darting in to strike Bolg when he saw an opening, opening a deep cut on his leg. He ducked back out of range as Bolg took a swipe at him, letting Kili strike while the orc was distracted.

They held Bolg at bay; Kili engaging him directly while Bilbo continued stinging, distracting blows. 

Bolg couldn't win. And he realized it. The white orc was suddenly moving backward, retreating a step at a time. Trying to break away to reach the corridor.

A knife flew over their heads, embedding deep into Bolg's eye. The white orc stood still for a moment, then toppled backward. He fell to the ground, motionless.

"Finally." Bilbo muttered. He moved closer to stand over the fallen orc. There was no doubt - Bolg was dead.

Bilbo pulled the knife - one Fili must have taken from the armoury - from Bolg's eye, grimacing at the sound. He wiped off the blade and stuck it into his coat.

Fili pulled his sword free of the last orc's corpse. 

Kili grasped his arm, looking him over. "Are you well?"

Fili nodded. He turned to meet Bilbo's gaze. "We'd best hurry. There will be more orcs once these have been discovered."

And Thorin and Dwalin wouldn't stay put if they thought Fili and Kili were in danger.

Bilbo nodded. With luck they wouldn't run into any more orcs. In the tower at least.

~x~X~x~

Thorin and Dwalin _weren't_ where Bilbo had left them.

They were on the frozen river, fighting a band of orcs. Very clearly trying to reach the tower.

Bilbo suppressed a sigh. An effort to clear the route Bilbo would have taken Fili and Kili on, no doubt. But they should have more faith in his abilities by now.

Fili and Kili caught sight of Thorin and Dwalin hacking at the orcs and ran forward, drawing their own weapons.

Bilbo watched them for a moment. The fight turning in the dwarves' favour now Fili and Kili had joined the battle. He could join them, add his blade or launch iron shots from a distance to help them take the last orcs down.

But his dwarves were more than a match for common orcs.

Only white orcs had managed to kill them.

Bilbo stared up at the tower, the shadows near the outlook where Azog could be found. 

He drew Sting and headed back into the tower.

~x~X~x~

Azog stood as if he had been waiting for him. A small smile on his face as he paced forward and started circling around Bilbo.

" _Akashuga._ " Azog's eyes narrowed. " _Shaataz. Snaag._ "

He remembered Bilbo from the warg attack. Bilbo could see it in his eyes, the calculating assessment that narrowed his gaze.

If it was meant to unnerve him, it didn't affect Bilbo. He had faced Azog too many times to be intimidated. He knew well the horror of being Azog's prey.

And his weaknesses.

Apparently bored with Bilbo's inaction, Azog made his move. He started forward, blade swinging in a wide arc intended to separate Bilbo's head from his body.

Bilbo darted sideways, avoiding the blow, and lunged forward, aiming for Azog's weaker side. 

Azog's blade came around in a surprisingly fast vicious arc that Bilbo barely dodged. He retreated to more uneven ground, scrambling up onto a fallen block of stone and flinging an iron shot at the white orc.

Azog deflected it with a disdainful snarl, stalking Bilbo through the ruins of the tower. 

It was fight pitting Azog's size and strength against Bilbo speed and agility. Bilbo used the ruins to his advantage, ducking behind listing fragments of wall and launching himself off fallen blocks of stone. Azog harried him with heavy blows, defecting Bilbo’s strikes with his superior strength, brushing Sting aside.

They battled on until they stumbled out onto the lip of stone overlooking the frozen river below.

"Bilbo!" 

Thorin's cry was so unexpected, Bilbo made the mistake of looking away.

Azog was on him. His blade cutting across Bilbo’s chest, ripping through his coat to his mithril shirt. A retreating strike caught his leg, causing Bilbo to stumble. One large hand grasped him by his coat and lifted him high off the ground.

Bilbo twisted, swinging Sting. But Azog simply shook him hard, leaving Bilbo hanging, Sting fallen from his grasp. 

" _Torin undag Train-ob!_ " Azog shouted out the words, his voice a challenge.

Bilbo found himself swung around to face Thorin.

Thorin who had ground to a halt at the sight of Bilbo in Azog's grasp. He had broken free of the fighting. Dwalin, Fili and Kili still fought against a group of orcs behind him.

" _Hon. Akashugalab. Lat turkta?_ " Azog spoke mockingly. He shook Bilbo again in emphasis. " _Kulta turkûrz?_ "

Bilbo tried to claw at the hand that held him but Azog simply shook him again.

There was a scrape. A line of cold against his neck.

Azog's blade. 

Bilbo stared at Thorin who had been halted only after a few steps.

" _Ahk. Kulta._ " Azog sounded triumphant. He drew Bilbo back to his chest, blade falling away. His large hand held him still.

" _Hon, Rani Khozdil._ " Azog drew him close, his moist breath fanning across the side of Bilbo's face.

Thorin stood below them, hand tight on his sword. Straining forward. Eyes desperate and wild.

Bilbo could practically feel the warmth of Azog's mouth close to his face.

Not again-

Bilbo twisted his head.

But not soon enough.

Azog's teeth tore into Bilbo's ear, ripping free. 

Pain ripped down the side of his face, muffling Thorin's outraged bellow.

But Bilbo was used to it by now and knew Azog would be distracted in his triumph.

This time Bilbo wasn't so close to death that he couldn't inflict some damage.

Bilbo twisted in Azog's grasp, using the Fili's knife to thrust deep between Azog's ribs. 

The white orc let out a roar, grip loosening. 

Bilbo twisted free, hand still on the knife in Azog's side, tearing the wound open wide. Damage done, he tore the knife free, kicking off the orc's chest to land on the icy stone. 

His leg gave out once his weight was on it. Bilbo crumpled. Sting glinted on the snow and Bilbo rolled, hand reaching for the hilt-

" _Mat akashuga!_ " Azog lunged towards him. 

-closing on it. With desperate strength, Bilbo thrust Sting upwards, aiming for Azog's unguarded throat.

The thin blade sank into Azog's flesh, spearing his neck and bursting out the back close to his spine.

Azog's eyes stared down at Bilbo, wide with disbelief. 

He fell forward, one hand clawing up at the awful wound. Gasping wetly, blood a dark tide from his mouth. 

His weight was like a hammer blow. Bilbo gasped for breath beneath him, expecting the white orc to do his best to kill the hobbit that had felled him. 

But Sting was thrust to the hilt through Azog's throat. The pale orc didn't get up. He didn't move.

And Bilbo was trapped beneath him. Azog's blood was an increasing wetness in his hair, pooling beneath his neck. His flesh pressed grotesquely against his, crushing his chest and pushing the side of Bilbo's face into the snow. Pressing down on him in a suffocating weight that threatened to crush the life out of him-

"-ibo!"

"Bilbo!"

Bilbo blinked his eyes open in surprise, not even noticing they had closed. The sight he saw had Bilbo blinking again, not sure he could believe what he was seeing.

Thorin staggered closer, his expression one of desolation. His eyes were wet as he sank to his knees.

Thorin thought he was dead. 

And he would be soon, if he couldn't get free of Azog's corpse.

Bilbo tried to say something but he couldn't draw in enough air. One of Bilbo's hands was partly free, though. Bilbo flexed his fingers, vaguely aware that the others had arrived.

"Bilbo!" Kili shouted out.

"He's alive!" It was Dwalin who barked the words. He slung his axes to his shoulders and grasped one of Azog's shoulders. "Here lads! Help me lift this filth!"

Fili and Kili rushed forward as Thorin staggered upright.

Dwalin said something in Khuzdul. Fili replied firmly, Kili more faintly. 

Azog's weight shifted. Rocked and then-

Bilbo could breathe.

He sucked in a breath only to hiss it out again as he inadvertently shifted. Pain shot along his nerves, breath stealing and like a white explosion. 

Bilbo drew in a small breath. A slightly larger one when the bolt of pain wasn't repeated.

"Bilbo." 

Bilbo pried his eyes open at Thorin's soft utterance of his name. 

He took in a shallow breath. "Thorin."

He scanned him, best as he could with Thorin kneeling at his side. There was blood on his hands and face, dark splatters across his clothes. But it didn't look like any of his.

As for Fili and Kili-

They were muttering to each other in Khuzdul, kneeling with Dwalin at his feet-

"What?" He tried to pull himself up, to see what Dwalin and the others were doing.

A large hand pressed down gently on his chest. Fili gave him a stern look. "Lie still, Bilbo."

That didn't sound good. He glanced up at Thorin's pale face. It probably looked a lot worse. Bilbo let himself be pushed back, wincing at the jagged pain that shot up his side and across his face.

A soft brush of fingers across his cheek had his attention turning back to Thorin. "Bilbo-" Thorin’s eyes caught on the side of Bilbo's face and he froze, expression becoming pained. 

Oh. His ear. Or what was left of it.

"Kili." 

There was a ripping sound.

Kili knelt down on his other side. "Bilbo." The greeting was filled with forced cheerfulness. There was a soft grating sound as he dug up a handful of snow. "This will sting a bit," he continued awkwardly, "but it should stop the bleeding."

It more than stung.

Bilbo hissed in a breath, pain flaring as Kili pressed the cloth-wrapped snow to the remnants of his ear. His hands clenched, teeth gritted against the pain. But slowly it faded, the cold of the snow numbing his ear and the side of his face.

He suddenly realised that one of his hands wasn't empty. He had Thorin's large hand in his grasp.

He relaxed his grip, certain Thorin would slip his hand free. 

But he didn't. Thorin held his gaze, a small smile fighting against the worry writ large on his face.

"And my leg?"

There was a moment of silence. Thorin's fingers twitched in his grasp before stilling.

"Azog gave you a nasty cut. Nothing too serious." Kili smiled unconvincingly. "Fili's just about to bind it."

"And splint it." Dwalin added gruffly. 

There was something they weren't telling him. Bilbo gazed up at Thorin's face. The grim lines and the constant wetness of his eyes.

Thorin never dealt with his impending death very well.

There was a faint cry.

Bilbo's gaze lifted. 

A bird glided overhead. An impossibly large bird.

"The eagles are coming." It was a soft whisper, the movement of his lips pulling at the cut across his face.

Bilbo didn't care. They would be safe now. His dwarves would live even if he did not.

Fili tightened the bandages.

Bilbo's vision whited out and he didn't fight it.

~x~X~x~

His eyes were heavy, his body like lead. Bilbo wondered if he was still lying on the ice, cold holding him still, a slow leeching death.

Bilbo pried his eyes open. Stone met his gaze. His eyes fell shut.

Stone.

Not pale sky. Stone, not wood.

Bilbo's eyes shot open. He floundered up, letting out a gasp as pain flared.

"Easy Bilbo!" The words were strangely muffled. Large hands pressed him back down on the bed. "Easy."

Bilbo stared at their owner in disbelief. Thorin. Thorin was here.

Alive. 

This-This couldn't be right.

"Those stitches are still healing." Oin reprimanded, stepping into view. He leaned over the bed, examining the side of Bilbo's face.

The bandages, Bilbo realised, a hand reaching up.

"Enough of that now, lad." Oin laid his hand back on the bed. "We had a bad enough time of it stopping you from scratching at it during the fever."

Thorin's hand had wrapped around his at some point. It tightened its grasp.

"Fever?" Bilbo felt like he still had one, his thoughts were so heavy and slow moving. It would certainly explain the ache that was his body.

Except for his leg. Bilbo eyed the too-large lump under his blankets. He had a feeling that it would be much worse than an ache if he tried to move it.

Oin made a noise of agreement, following Bilbo's gaze. "Orc filth. Azog's blade was coated with the stuff." He shook his head. "Not a pretty sight and worse to clean."

"Oin." Thorin's voice was low but it held a note of warning.

"Eh?" Oin caught Thorin's expression and nodded. "We managed to save it with Tharkun's help." He continued with a reassuring pat to the knee. "You should regain full use of it with time."

Bilbo stared at his leg. He knew how bad it had been. He’d thought Azog's wound would kill him. (He still wasn't quite sure it hadn't. Was this another repeat?) He might walk again but his leg would never look the same.

His ear certainly wouldn't.

"Couldn't do much about the ear." Oin peered into his eyes, pressing a light hand to his forehead for a moment before he nodded to himself with satisfaction. "You'll have to resign yourself to share that with Dwalin."

"Oh." Bilbo felt rather faint as he pictured his ear missing the same chunk Dwalin's did. 

But it was better than missing his ear entirely. Bilbo shivered. He could still remember the feel of the side of his head without an ear, the flesh around it torn down to bone-

"Bilbo." Thorin's hand had tightened, squeezing his fingers.

Bilbo's eyes slid to fix on Thorin's face. There was a healing cut alongside his eye but otherwise he looked well.

Aside from the darkened circles under his eyes, new lines around his mouth, Thorin looked as he had when he had entered Bag End.

Part of an ear was nothing. His leg was nothing as long as Thorin and the others were alive. "Fili and Kili?"

Something in Thorin's expression relaxed slightly. "Well. If I hadn't sent them away, you would have woken to find them camped at your bedside."

Oin let out a snort. He set aside one of the glass bottles he had been examining. "I'll be back to bring you a tonic in half a bell. Don't strain yourself while I'm gone." With that he let himself out of the room.

It was large room, now that he was seeing it. Thick rugs lay on the stone floor, a fire blazed in the large hearth on the other side of the room. It picked out the mosaics in the walls, metal and gems.

Bilbo blinked.

"Bilbo." The hand wrapped around his was holding tight again.

Bilbo turned to find Thorin staring him, his eyes downcast, his mouth pulled down in pained expression. He met Bilbo's gaze with desperate earnestness. "I am sorry for my actions at the gate. I-"

He cut off, eyes wide as he stared down at where Bilbo had twisted his hand, catching Thorin's in his own.

"You were not yourself, Thorin." How long had it been since he had seen Thorin as _himself_. Bilbo blinked rapidly. "There is nothing to forgive."

He tightened his grip, forestalling Thorin when he would speak again. "If anything, I should apologise. I took the Arkenstone. I should have found another way." He hadn't been able to find one but that didn't mean there wasn't a choice that could have avoided battle.

Or even Thorin's dragon sickness.

"You acted as a true friend, Bilbo." Thorin’s other hand came up to cover Bilbo’s. "More than a friend. You have slain the enemy of my line. Saved my sister's-sons. Helped to reclaim the kingdom of my people." Thorin's voice was soft as he gazed at Bilbo in open fondness. "Given them a home."

Bilbo's throat was tight. 

"And you have given me something beyond price." Thorin's smile lit his entire face with its warmth. Happy in a way Bilbo had seldom seen. 

Bilbo stared at him, unable to say anything as Thorin reached into the neck of his rich tunic.

Thorin opened his hand, pressing something smooth and round into Bilbo's palm. "I believe you were going to help me plant this."

Bilbo turned his hand, still cradled in Thorin's, palm up. An acorn sat in his palm.

"You won back our home, Bilbo Baggins." Thorin smiled, his fingers stroking the back of Bilbo's hand. "And I would be honoured if you called it your own." 

The Shire, Bilbo thought. But it was an automatic reaction, a thought and little else. The rolling green hills and gently bending streams of his memory were beloved but they had been left behind. And Bilbo, changed as he was, could not go back to them.

Bag End was no longer the home it had been. He had travelled far beyond the Shire's boundaries.

He wouldn't fit in Shire life again, half an ear missing and his leg heavily scarred. 

Having found one dwarf he couldn't leave. 

Bilbo closed his hand, clasping the Thorin's fingers and holding the acorn between their palms. "I suspect it will take some time to find the right place to plant it." Bilbo cleared his throat, the movement sending dull pain through the side of his face. "Oaks need a lot of space after all. Open sky and plenty of soil."

Thorin's smile broke into a wide grin. "I will have to help you. To find a suitable location."

Bilbo eyed him narrowly, trying to resist giving into the bubbles of happiness that were growing in his chest. "I would have thought you would be busy with repairs to the mountain." Overseeing the aftermath of the battle.

Though if Oin was to be believed, Bilbo must have slept through most of that. 

"My cousin Dain is overseeing the mountain in my absence." He gave Bilbo a warm amused smile. "For now I am at your disposal, my burglar."

Bilbo's face warmed at the endearment. The tightness of his throat threatened to become worse. Bilbo swallowed hard. "I have one request."

Thorin's eyebrows rose, mouth curving in a small smile. "Only one?"

Bilbo smiled back, unable to stop himself responding to Thorin's good humour. Not wanting to.

"Stay with me." Bilbo could feel himself colour at the words. Thorin stared at him wide eyed and Bilbo hurried to explain himself. "Until I wake up." He squirmed against his bed, stilling as it jarred his ear. "So I know this isn't all just a dream..." He trailed off, embarrassed and unable to meet Thorin's gaze.

His heart sank as the silence stretched. Perhaps Thorin-

Thorin's hands closed over his, warm and large. 

He was smiling, his eyes soft when Bilbo met his gaze.

"Nothing would please me more, my burglar."

Bilbo relaxed back in the mattress, letting his eyes drift closed. His hands still clasped in Thorin's. Reassured that when he awoke Thorin would be there.

They were all alive. Fili. Kili. 

Thorin.

Whatever curse he had been under, the loop had been broken. 

It was a new day. And there much to live for.

His world was now much more than books and maps.

 

 

EPILOGUE

The Ring sat in Bilbo Baggin's pocket.

It had failed to break its bearer. An effort that had drained its strength. Forcing the Halfling to tread the path of the worst possibilities had been a battle. The Halfling had resisted every step, his thoughts twisting each scenario to his advantage, until even the Ring could not steer his mind to despairing paths. It had lost. 

But it had time. There would be another time of crisis it could use to slip into the Halfling’s mind and wear down his will. 

The Ring had waited a long time for its master's return. It could wait a little longer. 

 

~x~X~x~

Black Speech:  
_Ziimarp!_ \- 'Coward!'  
_Khozdayil._ \- 'Dwarf-scum.'  
_Azultul!_ \- 'Kill them!'  
_Akashuga._ \- 'Halfling.'  
_Shaataz. Snaag._. 'Troublemaker. Weak.'  
_Torin undag Train-ob!_ \- 'Thorin son of Thrain!'  
_Hon. Akashugalab. Lat turkta?_ \- 'Look. Your halfing. Do you value him?'  
_Kulta turkûrz?_ \- 'Is he valuable?'  
_Ahk. Kulta._ \- 'Yes. He is.'  
_Hon, Rani Khozdil._ \- 'Watch, Dwarf King.'  
_Mat akashuga!_ 'Die halfling!'

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you, my friends, for giving this story a go and persevering! Even if it wans't a time travel fic after all XD But I hope the ending (before the reveal) made up for it somewhat. 
> 
> Apologies for the lateness of this last chapter. I got hit hard by the new flu going around. Please take care if you're in the colder months or heading towards them. It hits quickly and can be life-threatening.
> 
> On a happier note, if you enjoyed my writing and want to read something much less angsty, my novel is now available internationally. You can find details [here](http://flakedice.livejournal.com/131700.html).
> 
> Best wishes and good health,  
> Flake


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